


A Demon's Fate

by AvariciousAmbitions



Series: Aftermath [2]
Category: Class (TV 2016), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aliens, Buckle up folks, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Matti finally gets some backstory yay, all tags from the last part apply, you thought the last one was depressing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvariciousAmbitions/pseuds/AvariciousAmbitions
Summary: With Matteusz gone, lost to a sadistic, all-powerful alien life-form, Charlie's world begins to fall apart. In a last attempt to save the world, he and April team up with The Doctor and co. to bring down the threat once and for all. As Charlie is forced to choose between saving his boyfriend and saving the world, he finds himself questioning everything he took for granted. How many times has he put his own interest before others? How have his actions hurt those around him? And how much does he really know the person he loved most?
Relationships: April MacLean/Ram Singh, Matteusz Andrzejewski/Charlie Smith
Series: Aftermath [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597186
Comments: 40
Kudos: 13





	1. One

> _“There is no greater sorrow than to recall our times of joy in wretchedness.”_
> 
> \- Inferno, Dante Alighieri

* * *

There was glass in his hands. It had been there for almost three hours but he couldn’t bring himself to take it out. They were small pieces, no bigger than a grain of rice, sticking out of the cuts and scratches that covered his exposed skin. He could have asked The Doctor for help removing them before she’d left with Ram and Tanya - and maybe, he thought, that’s what he should have done - but in his mind, he deserved them. They were there because of what he’d done. Or, rather, what he’d failed to do.

There was glass on the floor too, hundreds of razor-sharp little fragments covering his bedroom like pebbles on a beach. And it was his job to clean it all. That’s what people did after an alien attack, he supposed. The strong picked up the pieces while the weak stayed back and healed. He asked himself, while he picked up each piece one by one and dropped them into a nearby wastebasket, why he’d never done this before. Not once had he ever stayed behind to pick up the pieces. The Shadow-Kin, the coach, the Lankin, the flower petals, the prisoner in the rock - he’d never seen their aftermath. He’d always left it to someone else while he’d tried to get on with his life. If there were other people to do something for him, why should he do it himself? It was only when The Doctor had dropped him and April back home, that Charlie really began to regret that. It was like running headfirst into a brick wall, confronted at last with a realisation he’d been trying to avoid all his life. His actions had consequences. His actions left scars. And sometimes, they cost him the people he loved most.

He didn’t realise he was crying until the cuts on his cheeks began to sting, saltwater tears dripping into open wounds. It felt like being sliced open by that glass whirlwind all over again. Not painful enough to complain, but enough to make him miserable. There were no excuses anymore. He’d blamed Quill and her people for the fighting on his home planet. He’d blamed the Shadow-Kin for the deaths of his parents, and Corakinus for almost losing April. But he couldn’t blame anyone else for this. Not as far as he was concerned. Losing Matteusz was his fault, and nothing could convince him otherwise.

“Do you need some help in here?”

He turned with a start to see April standing in the doorway, holding what looked like a bundle of sheets in her arms. When he stood to greet her, he saw the bundle more closely. It was Quill’s daughter, fast asleep, wrapped in blankets to keep her safe.

“No, it’s fine.” He said after a moment. “You’re already busy enough.”

April smiled, a sorry kind of smile that never reached her eyes. “She’s fine. She hasn’t woken up since Quill left.”

“But still, we shouldn’t leave her.” Charlie protested. In truth, he didn’t want April there. He knew all she’d do was try and reassure him, convince him he’d done nothing wrong. There was no good outcome in that scenario. If he didn’t believe her, he’d spend the rest of the day feeling like the selfish, ignorant child he was. If he did, he would force himself to forget everything and carry on as if nothing had happened. He didn’t know which outcome scared him more.

“You can’t hide away in here forever,” April said with a sigh, stepping over the pieces of glass as she approached. “There’s no windows, for a start.”

Charlie looked to the far side of the room, where the wind blew in through empty window panes. When he saw them, he remembered the sudden, cold dread that had filled him when he’d found Quill in here, on her knees amidst the wreckage, clutching her broken arm. He remembered her words, the stern, deadly tone she had used as she told them what had happened. He hadn’t accepted it at first. Whether he had genuinely not believed her or whether he’d just been in denial, he couldn’t say. But in that hall, when he’d first locked eyes with the thing in his boyfriend’s body, it had been as if the floor had collapsed around him. He’d seen everything and nothing in those eyes, so cold and empty, devoid of all colour and feeling. Once, he’d fallen in love looking into those eyes. But the boy he’d fallen in love with was gone, lost to a monster that still roamed the streets. Every time he thought of Matteusz, he saw that thing instead, cold, grey and bloody. 

April made to sit on the corner of the bed, gesturing for him to join. “They’ll be alright.” She said in a voice as soft as silk. “If that’s what you’re worried about-”

“Who’s they?” He snapped back, more sharply than he’d intended. “You mean Ram and Tanya? You mean The Doctor and Quill? Or do you mean everyone? The whole human race, carrying on regardless.”

“Charlie…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” His voice rose to a yell. “Don’t tell me I’ve done nothing wrong because then I’ll start believing you.” 

April’s expression barely changed, but her eyes filled with a look of pity that made Charlie regret his outburst. He almost apologised to her, but in the end, he said nothing as he sat by her side.

“I meant Tanya and Ram,” April said when all had fallen quiet. “But yes, everyone else will be too. The Doctor will fix it.”

“How can you say that?” He asked, all resolve gone from his voice.

“Because she saved me.” There wasn’t a hint of uncertainty in her words. “I was dead, Charlie. And she still saved me. She’ll save Matteusz as well.”

The hope in her voice almost made Charlie start to cry again. Ever since she’d come back, April’s faith in The Doctor had been absolute. She seemed to trust the woman with her life, the life The Doctor had given back to her. Charlie envied her that faith. 

“Save him from what?” He asked, not looking her in the eye. “We still have no idea what happened to him.”

“The Doctor will tell us as soon as she-”

“She already knows.” He cut off her empty reassurances before she could offer them. “You heard how she spoke back in the hall. ‘I know what you are,’ she said. She knows exactly what’s going on and she won’t tell us any of it.”

“She probably has her reasons,” April said, but her words had lost their certainty. “Why would she hide something from us?”

He couldn’t think of an answer to that, at least not one that made any sense. He still refused to believe everything was ok, he would never let himself believe that again, but he didn’t have it in him to be angry anymore. After a moment, his hand found April’s knee. He let it rest there, waiting for the world to calm down around him. If April noticed, she didn’t react.

When the moment passed, April stood, holding the bundle out to him. 

“You take her.” She said, her smile as warm and comforting as ever. “I’ll finish in here.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’ve been on your own in here for hours. You deserve a break.”

With some trepidation, Charlie took the baby in his arms, suddenly feeling as if both of them were made of porcelain. 

“Just keep holding her like that,” April said as she went about picking up the glass. “You’ll be fine.”

Charlie looked at the child for what felt like the first time. She looked almost nothing like Quill with her soft, dark hair and unblemished skin the colour of cocoa. He wondered who her father had been, and what kind of a man could break down the walls Quill had built a hundred feet high.

“I never asked her name.” He said, without even realising he’d spoken until the words left his mouth. 

April stopped where she was, her hand halfway to opening a storage cupboard near the bedside. “Sorry?”

He looked away. “Nothing. It doesn’t…” he trailed off as his words failed him. He’d spent so long hiding from his thoughts that he didn’t have it in him to pretend anymore. “I never asked Quill what she named her. Almost a month she’s been back and I never even asked her daughter’s name.” The guilt came over him in a sudden wave. “I never asked anyone about anything. That’s why all of this even happened.”

For the longest time, April said nothing. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, searching for the right words. 

“You were grieving.” She said eventually. “You’d lost the last hope you had for your people. We nearly saw the world end. You had to shoot me, Charlie. It was just your way of coping.”

“But is that normal?” He asked. “Is it right to just ignore the rest of the world?”

Again, April didn’t respond for some time. When she did, her words were quiet, almost a whisper. “Everyone has their ways.”

It wasn’t a confirmation, but it wasn’t quite a denial either. Charlie found himself trying to get a look at her face, to try and read some emotion in her, but for the first time since he had met her, she was unreadable. All the warmth and life had retreated somewhere behind those eyes as she stared intently at the contents of the cupboard. 

“Is this your camera?” She asked, breaking the stony silence that held them in place.

“Camera?” Charlie repeated, confusion replacing his guilt. “No. I've never owned a camera.”

“It looks expensive,” April said as she brought it out into the light. She stood, holding it out for him to see. Charlie knew very little about cameras, least of all Earth ones, but instinct told him she was right. It wasn’t one of those digital ones he was vaguely familiar with, but the kind with lenses built for close detail and more settings than he could even comprehend. Even the bag it had been stored in, dark blue with a black strap, seemed expensive somehow.

“If it’s not yours, then…” April started, but her confidence left her as she realised the weight of her words. Charlie didn’t need to hear her finish to know what she meant. If it didn’t belong to him, then it had to belong to Matteusz. 

“Did you ever see him use it?” April asked in a low voice, flicking a switch to turn it on. Charlie shook his head. He’d been with Matteusz when he’d moved in for the first time, watching him unpack the few bags he’d brought with him. Yet somehow he’d still missed this. He couldn’t help but wonder what else he didn’t know about the person who loved him more than anyone.

“The last pictures should be…” April muttered to herself as she tried to make sense of all the buttons, “Here.” The screen lit up as the image flashed into view. It was a landscape, a picture of a pathway lined with trees that curved above to form a bright emerald canopy. Sun streamed down from between the leaves, bathing the footpath in pools of golden light. Along the edges, where charted terrain gave way to sprawling grass, bluebells and foxgloves dotted the rolling green with hints of purple and pink. Charlie recognised the passage. He’d walked it once with Matteusz, one of the first times they’d been together as a couple. It had been autumn then, and the trees had been crowned in reds, oranges and browns as the leaves began to fall. 

“From last summer,” April said, somewhat unnecessarily. She flicked back, showing all kinds of plants, landscapes and other natural wonders. A blossoming tree branch caught his eye, one with petals eerily similar to those that had almost destroyed them.

“They’re good.” April said as she flicked the ‘off’ switch. “A lot of flowers, though.”

“I didn’t know him then,” Charlie said, searching for some kind of recognisable emotion amongst the tangle of feelings in his chest. “It’s funny, I don’t even remember what that felt like. Not knowing him.”

April nodded. “It’s hard to think of a time before all this.”

He felt the tears starting up again. “But do I even know him now? All this time we’ve been together and I never asked him anything about himself.” The realisation hit hard, and suddenly he was in pieces again. April put the camera behind her and took the baby back from him. He let her do it, too preoccupied with trying to stop himself from dissolving. “The only times we ever talked about him were…” he stopped, letting the memories wash over him. Twice, in all the time they’d known each other, they’d talked about Matteusz. Both times when there had been no avoiding it. The first on the night he’d moved in, the second when the prisoner in the rock had forced the truth out of him. And both times, the conversations had ended in the same way - back to talking about Charlie.

“What kind of boyfriend would treat someone like that?” He asked nobody in particular as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. His hands came away with those tiny glass pieces covering them, shining in the fading sunlight like a tiny galaxy in his palm. A galaxy stained with blood, born from rage and bitterness.

If April had been meaning to respond, she never got the chance. The familiar screeching and groaning of the materialising TARDIS split through the silence, drowning all other noises out in its wake. Both Charlie and April turned towards the noise without even a moment’s hesitation. The blue box gradually faded its way into existence, landing just on the other side of the open doorway. They both moved to stand, each of them eager for news about their injured friends. But before they could so much as take a step, the doors swung open with a loud and sudden snap. The Doctor emerged, vibrant and excitable as ever. She met their eyes almost instantly, fixing them both with a look of pity and eagerness blended into one. She didn’t wait for any kind of greeting or even a word of acknowledgement. She stood firm, assured, and spoke with a voice brimming with confidence.

“Right then, let’s go save the world.”


	2. Two

> _“People never notice anything.”_

_-_ The Catcher in the Rye, J.D Salinger

* * *

The last time Charlie had seen the TARDIS’ interior, it had been cold and grey, almost clinical in its appearance. He hadn’t understood how anyone could feel comfortable in such a place, let alone spend their life there. But, for the person The Doctor had been at the time, it had made at least some sense. A cold, grey ship for a cold, grey man. Now, though, the console room was bathed in a wash of yellow and blue as light glowed from all manner of panels and screens. The console itself was surrounded by great crystalline structures, towering above the seven people standing inside. Three of them were strangers to Charlie, two men and a woman, all of whom stood in almost reverent silence, seemingly unsure of where to look. The others were himself and April, both standing apprehensive just inside the threshold, The Doctor, flicking switches and turning dials on the console, and Quill, who stood with her arm bound in a sling, scowling as usual. None of them dared speak. Each of them seemed bound by one another’s silence, weighed down by all that was dying to be said. Even Quill’s daughter slept silently in April’s arms. The Doctor seemed oblivious, going about her business as if nothing was wrong. Her nonchalance made her seem distant somehow as if she was on another planet.

She looked up, meeting Charlie’s hesitant eyes. For a moment, she seemed confused, then her expression cleared. “Ah, sorry. You’ve not been introduced.” She walked over to him, taking him by the arm and bringing him towards the strangers. April followed, watchful and wary. 

“Charlie and April,” The Doctor said, gesturing to each of them in turn, “these are my mates. Graham, Ryan and Yaz.” 

The three strangers each gave a nod of acknowledgement as they were introduced. Graham was the oldest, a man in his sixties with a face that seemed made for a smile. But despite his warm appearance, his eyes held a sadness in them that Charlie knew all too well. The look of a loss that still hadn’t healed. Ryan was much younger, in his early twenties at most. His face had a look of what seemed like permanent confusion, never quite settling on one emotion. But Yaz was the most intriguing. She was just as young as Ryan, but she had the look of someone much older. Not in her face but the way she held herself like she was thinking far more than she would ever say. None of them shared The Doctor’s cheerful demeanour, instead watching with uncertainty. When The Doctor saw their expressions, her smile faded.

“Something wrong?” She asked.

Charlie was almost lost for words. It was as if the last few hours hadn’t even happened for her. Like everything was going on as normal. Before he had the chance to lash out and say something he might regret, April spoke up.

“How are Tanya and Ram?”

Realisation dawned in The Doctor’s eyes. “Yes, of course. Sorry.” She leaned against the console. “They’re in good hands, don't worry about that.”

“Are you sure?” April asked, her face a mask of composure that her voice couldn’t quite match. 

The Doctor nodded. “That hospital’s the best one this side of the universe. If they can help a Quill mother, they can help your friends.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I’m not saying it won’t take time, and I’m not saying you can’t worry about them, but they’re going to be ok.”

April seemed satisfied, but Charlie had more on his mind. “What about Matteusz?”

The silence that followed was agonising, so heavy that he could almost feel it in the air. The Doctor’s eyes darkened. 

“I’m doing what I can.” She said in a tone that suggested finality.

Charlie wasn’t convinced. “Which is what, exactly? Why aren’t you telling us anything?” He was so tense, it was as if his words had to fight their way from his throat.

“Sorry, Doc, who are we talking about?” Graham spoke up from one side.

Charlie almost laughed in disbelief. “You haven’t even told them?” His voice was tipped with venom.

“I was waiting until we were all together.” The Doctor said, still speaking as if she was trying to shut down any further conversation. She turned to Graham as she continued. “Matteusz is a friend of-”

“Boyfriend.” Charlie cut in, speaking the words before he’d even thought them. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Alright then.” The Doctor said with a sigh of frustration. She turned her attention back on the others. “His mind’s been taken over by an alien life-form. Well, of sorts, anyway. One that came through the rift just over a week ago. It’s already killed about a dozen staff members at the school.”

“So we’re going after him?” Yaz said, speaking with a kind of authority that didn’t match the look in her eyes.

“We’re looking for him.” The Doctor corrected. “And, if possible, we try to save him.”

Charlie wanted to speak up. He wanted to insist that there was no ‘trying’, that they would save Matteusz no matter the cost. But even he knew that couldn’t happen. No matter how much he wanted it, he couldn’t ask six people to put one life above theirs. Even if he was doing it himself.

“So how are we supposed to find him?” Quill seemed to want to fold her arms, but her sling made that impossible. 

There was another pause as The Doctor took a short, shallow breath. She took the monitor in hand, gesturing to the others to join her. For a moment, Charlie thought about leaving. If he walked out now, he could leave them to their talk. He could find Matteusz on his own in a desperate attempt to salvage what was left of their relationship. But he knew he was thinking irrationally. Making reckless decisions like that would risk losing Matteusz for good. As much as he hated The Doctor for her secrecy and the others for their inaction, he needed them.

The monitor showed footage of a news broadcast, the sound muted.

“I think this is where he went before coming to the school.” The Doctor said as if in explanation. Charlie peered over her shoulder to get a better look at the image. It showed a few houses on a terraced street, each one almost indistinguishable from its neighbours. All, that was, except the house in the middle, surrounded by police tape, uniformed officers and flashing sirens. The top of the building, its roof and second storey, had been reduced to blackened ruins. The windows and doors were missing, leaving the place no more than an empty shell. The broadcast’s caption was clear as day: ‘House Fire Kills Three.’ 

At first, no one knew what to say. The Doctor’s implications were clear, this was the creature’s doing.

“Two of them were the owners.” The Doctor said in a low voice, though even she had to know the details were unnecessary. “One was a neighbour.” 

Charlie’s mind flooded with images of smoke and flames, smothering and scolding everything in their path. He imagined the sounds - screaming, crying, the roar of the fire - so vividly they seemed real. Then, as if he hadn’t tortured himself enough, he saw Matteusz as he had been in the school hall, cold and empty, watching it all burn. Thin needles of a headache began piercing beneath his temples, threatening to swarm him completely.

“So what do we do?” Ryan asked, if only because someone had to.

The Doctor gave a long sigh before responding. “Follow the trail of bodies. See what we can learn. If we can work out its next move, we can stop anyone else dying.”

Charlie looked at the image again, as if compelled by morbid curiosity. This time, he looked at the house itself. He found himself mentally rebuilding it, picturing it as it might have once been. He felt he knew it from somewhere. He’d stood on that pavement once, staring up at that same door. He remembered the feeling of anticipation that had fluttered within him that night. Even the autumn chill hadn’t dispelled the flush in his cheeks. But why? What was he remembering?

The realisation crept through him, crawling under his skin like a thousand tiny spiders. A cold dread overtook him until his legs felt too weak to support him. 

“That was his parents’ house.”

All eyes turned on him. The room fell once again into silence, a stasis that held everyone in a tight, invisible grip. But Charlie couldn’t stop the words from coming.

“I met him there on the night of the prom. We walked up to the school together. I...I waited for him there…” He couldn’t find the right words to say, but he felt he had to speak or else the world would begin to collapse around him. The headache struck hard, a sharp throbbing pain behind his eyes. He felt hands on him. At first, he thought they were April’s, but then he remembered the baby in her arms. When he turned, he found Yaz and Graham each with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him upright. Before he could try to stop them, tears blurred his vision and dampened his cheeks. The only sounds he heard were his own quick and shallow breaths as he tried not to sob. Nobody needed to speak the words. They all knew they were true. Matteusz had murdered his own parents.

No. Not Matteusz. The thing that had stolen his body had done it. Matteusz had no part. Charlie didn’t know for certain if that was true, but it had to be. If it wasn’t, then all hope was lost.

“We need to go to the house.” The Doctor’s words brought everyone back to the present, snapping them out of whatever daze they had fallen into. Charlie managed to steady himself, shaking off Graham and Yaz’s hold.

The Doctor didn’t wait for a response. “If this is true, then it changes things. It means this is personal.”

“How’s it any different?” Ryan asked, his voice wavering slightly.

“Because we might be able to work out where he goes next.” The Doctor explained. “First he goes after his parents, then his friends at the school. If we can figure out what his next target might be, we can stop him before he gets there.”

Charlie couldn’t stand the way she kept saying ‘his’ like they were talking about the real Matteusz. It made him feel sick to his stomach to think that anyone could even begin to equate his boyfriend with that heartless, sadistic monster. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak up. He knew it wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“Why go there, though? The place’s been burned. There’s nothing that’ll help us now.” Yaz said, still with that sense of certainty in her voice.

“Yeah, and the place’ll be crawling with police by now.” Graham nodded until a look of surprise flashed across his face. He turned to Yaz. “No offence or anything. I just mean we won’t be able to get too close.”

The Doctor began to answer. “We go back a few days, maybe a week. If he had a room there-”

“What, so we just break in?” Now Graham sounded unconvinced.

“And go messing with someone else’s things?” Ryan added, equally uncertain.

“It’s our best chance.” The Doctor said, turning away to shut down any rebuttals.

Charlie wasn’t sure he could face the idea of doing anything anymore. After all he’d just learned, he felt drained, exhausted, like his body was made of glass. Any moment, he could shatter at the slightest touch. He looked away from The Doctor, away from her friends, until he locked eyes with April and Quill. April held the baby even tighter now, clinging to her as if she was the only thing holding the world together. Even Quill’s expression didn’t seem so stern. She still betrayed no hint of emotion, but there was a humanity to her that Charlie rarely saw.

“It can be our best chance tomorrow.” She said, starting to make her way towards the TARDIS doors.

The Doctor seemed confused. “What do you mean?”

Quill sighed. “Look at them.” She gestured to Charlie and April as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Do either of these two look like they want to go through any more of this?”

“We don’t have time to waste.” The Doctor said, a curtness to her voice.

“You have a time machine!” Quill bit back, equally curt. “You can be back in thirty seconds if you wanted.”

Charlie wondered for a moment why The Doctor had taken so long with Tanya and Ram, or why she couldn’t have arrived in time to stop the Shadow-Kin invasion or any number of things they had faced without her. Why, he asked himself, did she only seem to be there when it was convenient for her?

“We’ve still got an alien on the loose.” The Doctor said, stepping away from the console and towards Quill. “By tomorrow morning more people could be dead.”

“So use your _time machine_ to get there before that happens.” Quill seemed done with the argument, turning back towards the doors.

“I think she’s right, Doc.” Graham put a hand on The Doctor’s shoulder. “They’ve had a rough time of it. Let them rest.”

The Doctor looked to Ryan and Yaz, who both nodded their agreement. After a moment, she sighed.

“Alright. I’m sorry. Go home and rest. I’ll be back for you tomorrow.”

She flicked a button on the console that opened the doors. Outside, the landing stood waiting, the promise of sleep mere moments away. That was if Charlie’s headache had gone away by then.

None of them wasted any time in leaving. Once the doors had closed behind them, the TARDIS screeched its way out of existence. The noise finally woke Quill’s daughter, who babbled happily with blissful ignorance. Once they were alone, Charlie and April turned to Quill.

“Why did you do that for us?” April asked. 

Quill shrugged. “I’m not as cold as you seem to think I am.” She went to take the baby back, then remembered her broken arm. She sighed in frustration. “I might need some help with her.”

April nodded. “Whatever you need. And Charlie will help too, right?”

For a moment, Charlie didn’t even realise he’d been spoken to. When he saw their expectant glances, he blinked in surprise. “Oh...yes. I suppose so.” He screwed his eyes shut against the light from the solitary bulb above them, his headache striking yet again. “I’m going to sleep.”

Apri seemed confused. “It’s only 6:00.”

“And it’s been a long day.” He went to go back into his room, then remembered the windows. He wouldn’t be sleeping in there for some time. “I’ll be downstairs.”

April and Quill exchanged a look, then nodded. Neither of them said a word as Charlie went to gather his things. There was nothing else that could be said. So much had happened in the space of 12 hours. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a tidal wave of emotions loomed above him, waiting to crash into him and drown him in its depths. If he let that happen, he would fall apart completely. He couldn’t let that happen, not again. He’d failed Matteusz once. He wasn’t going to fail anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that my A-level exams have officially been cancelled, I might as well put all that English Lit work to good use. So have some fancy book quotes.

> _ “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” _
> 
> _ \- Paradise Lost, John Milton _

* * *

_ None of this was real. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he felt it somewhere deep within him. He was standing in a room. A small room with minimal furniture - a bed, a wardrobe and a dresser stacked with drawers. It seemed almost impeccably tidy, everything placed just so. But it was the walls that gave it away, a delicate shade of pale blue that made even the sparse furnishings seem bright. It had a softness only a child’s room could possess. A sense of wonder, of innocence, that made even the dullest of places shine. _

_ “Why does he look like that?”  _

_ Charlie turned. There was nothing behind him but a door, adorned with a small hanging cross. When he turned back, he saw the figures on the bed. They seemed to have appeared from nowhere. A child, a boy of no more than seven or eight, lying in the bed, tucked beneath the blankets, and a woman sitting on the bedside, holding open a picture book. The sky outside had turned dark, clear and dotted with glittering stars. Even being raised as a prince, Charlie knew the scene well. A mother reading to her son, staying with him in the last moments of dusk.  _

_ The mother brought the book towards her, looking at the picture more closely. “Because he was drawn that way. Sometimes an artist sees more in pictures than other people.” She had a fragile kind of smile, one that looked like it might falter at any second. Behind her eyes, there was something cold and hard. Something a boy so young might never have noticed. _

_ “But why did they draw him like that?” The boy asked, with the kind of curiosity only children knew. It was only then Charlie realised that they weren’t speaking English. Instead, they spoke in a language that he was sure he’d heard somewhere before. Before he’d even heard them, Charlie knew exactly what the words meant. And somehow, he knew who they were, too. But he couldn’t bring himself to think the words themselves. That would make it real, and none of this was real. He had to remember that. _

_ The mother gave a short sigh, one of tiredness rather than frustration. “I don’t know, Matti.” She said. “We can never know for sure what a person thinks. If we try, we only worry.” _

_ The boy, the young Matteusz of this dream-world, lowered his head. “He was red in the other book.” He said, his voice quiet and repressed, full of disappointment. “I just wanted to-” _

_ “I know you did.” His mother said. “You want to know everything, don’t you? That’s what makes you such a clever boy.” She turned to look at the door as if expecting someone to walk in at any moment. Almost as quickly, she turned back to him. “And it’s what gets you into trouble. Some people don’t like to be questioned.” _

_ “Like father?” Matteusz asked, almost in a whisper. _

_ Hearing that word, ‘father’, from someone so young reminded Charlie of his own childhood. He remembered being taught as early as he could remember to never question his parents, to respect them no matter what, and to address them properly. He wondered if Matteusz had been taught the same thing. _

_ The mother nodded but didn’t speak. Instead, she watched her son as his eyes grew sad, brimming with tears from some deep, awful memory. For the first time, Charlie really saw their faces. The woman was slender, so much so that she looked as if she might break. But it was her face that caught his eye. There was a beauty to her, the kind that held thoughts but not gazes. A soft beauty, but beauty nonetheless, and she had passed that beauty onto her son. Not to the boy beside her, he was still too young to be anything more than a skinny little child with stubborn hair and a cherub’s face, but to the person Charlie had come to love. He had all her softness, all that gentle beauty, mixed with a strength that seemed all his own. _

_ “Do you want me to tell you what I think?” His mother asked after a pause that seemed to last for hours.  _

_ Matteusz looked up, nodding his head as if he was afraid to speak. “Please.” _

_ His mother smiled that fragile, breakable smile. Again, her eyes flashed with that coldness for just a brief moment. Enough to make the room seem darker. _

_ “In your books, they draw the Devil in red because red is the colour of evil. You know all about that, don’t you?” _

_ Matteusz didn’t answer, not even with a nod, but his mother continued regardless. _

_ “Here, they made him grey. And what colours make grey, Matti?” _

_ “Black and white,” Matteusz answered without hesitation. His voice was quiet still, yet it carried across the room as clearly as the sound of thunder. Charlie couldn’t help but frown. The question seemed more like something a three-year-old might be asked. Why was this woman treating her son like an infant? _

_ “Good.” His mother said, her tone erring on patronising. “Black and white. ” She turned the book back around, holding the picture for Matteusz to see. Now, Charlie saw the book up close. He’d never seen it before but he knew, somehow, what it was. A book that told the stories of God and the Devil, written so that children might learn their parents’ beliefs. The page the mother pointed at showed a tall, grey figure surrounded by fire and smoke, its head crowned with horns and its eyes a dull white. Charlie felt the world go cold as he saw it, remembering the morning in the hall. The encounter with that thing. _

_ “But sometimes,” the mother went on, “grey is made when there aren’t any other colours. Isn’t that right?” _

_ “Like in old pictures?” Matteusz asked. _

_ “Exactly like in old pictures. So what do you think they’re trying to say?” _

_ For a long time, Matteusz didn’t answer. Charlie couldn’t tell for certain whether it was fear or uncertainty. Either way, the boy’s eyes seemed to search the room, looking for anything to focus on other than his mother’s testing gaze. Eventually, he spoke. “He has no colour...because he isn’t really there?” _

_ His mother shook her head. “Because then he seems easier to trust. It makes evil look normal, something that anyone can be tempted by. Normal people don’t become red-skinned monsters, they become grey. They lose their colour. Because evil can be found anywhere, not just in the Devil.” _

_ The look in the boy’s eyes was one of mortal terror. He had curled up beneath the sheets as tightly as his tiny frame could manage, staring at his mother as if he daren’t look away. _

_ “What do I always tell you, Matti?” His mother asked as she stood from the bedside, closing the book as she did. _

_ “Don’t be tempted,” Matteusz whispered back, seemingly more to himself than anyone else. _

_ His mother nodded. “Goodnight, Matti.” She said, turning away and walking to the now open door. She didn’t say another word as she closed it behind her, leaving her son alone in the dark room, his eyes open and watching. _

* * *

_ The scene changed before him, all in an instant. One moment, he’d been in a child’s bedroom. The next, Charlie stood on a footpath that cut through a small patch of trees. A park, green and bright in the summer heat. In front of him, he saw Matteusz and his mother again, both maybe two years older. A man walked with them, tall and lean with a face built to scowl. His father, without a doubt. This time, the words they spoke had no meaning, but Charlie still felt compelled to follow them as they walked the trail. This was a concept new to him, a day out with family, bathed in sunlight and surrounded by nature. It seemed almost perfect, idyllic even, but something about the tone of the family’s voices said otherwise. Matteusz barely spoke, the ten-year-old preferring to watch the trees for birds. His parents’ conversation seemed strained, held back by some deep, hidden feelings that neither of them could express.  _

_ Just as Charlie began to run, trying to catch up with them, the scene changed again, the trees and the trail disappearing like smoke into the air. The family stayed as they were, their new surroundings settling around them. Now, they stood further on in the same woods, watching something unfold somewhere far away. Small figures standing on a distant bridge while others searched the river below. At each end of the bridge, a crowd was being dispersed by men in uniform. None of the family said a word as the father ushered Matteusz to one side. The boy didn’t seem to mind, wandering amongst the trees and picking fallen branches from the ground. Words began to fill the air, but not words from the scene before them. Words from some time later, once the sun had set and the clouds covered the sky. Charlie didn’t know how, but again the scene changed to show a living room, small and cosy, decorated with family photographs. _

_ “He wants to know what happened.” The mother said, sitting on the sofa with a cushion on her lap. _

_ “And you want to tell him?” The father said back, his voice unforgiving. “You want to fill his head with that nonsense.” _

_ “If we tell him the right way-” _

_ “He’s too young. Do you want to give the boy ideas?” _

_ The mother looked horrified. “What kind of ideas? Why would he want to…” Her words almost failed her as her voice began to waver. “...to die?” _

_ The room dissolved around him, and suddenly Charlie was in the bedroom again. This time, instead of the mother sitting by his bed, it was the father that loomed over Matteusz, holding him against the wall. _

_ “You will not say those things ever again. Do you understand?” His father’s voice shot through the quiet of the room like a bullet. _

_ “I was just-” _

_ A slap cut Matteusz off before he could protest. His father kept his hand out as Matteusz fell, striking him again across the other cheek. Matteusz screamed in pain, sobbing so loudly that Charlie felt himself go numb. From the other side of the door, the mother watched in silence, her eyes showing no emotion as her son wept before her. _

_ “Do not argue with me!” His father said, his voice rising to match the volume of his son’s cries. “You’ll stay in here until morning.” He stormed from the room, barging past the woman as he left. “Lock the door.” He muttered on his way out. _

_ Charlie felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know what he’d just witnessed but the scene was fading fast. A deep, icy dread gripped him as he tried to make sense of it all. These weren’t just dreams, he knew that now, but memories. Memories of a life he’d never lived. From when Matteusz had been no more than a child. He didn’t understand what he was seeing or how he had seen it, but one thing was more than clear. He had never understood Matteusz. No matter how much he thought he had, he’d never even tried. _

* * *

_ “I tried to find you before.” _

_ Charlie turned. He was still dreaming, now in a room with nothing but white walls and an empty floor. Despite how small they appeared, the walls seemed as if they could go on forever. Like they weren’t really there. But they weren’t really there. None of this was. _

_ Matteusz stood in the centre of the room. The real Matteusz, just as Charlie had always known him. Bright and warm and beautiful. Seeing him took all the fear and confusion away, and left the glow of hope in their place.  _

_ “Matteusz…” It felt good to say his name, even with a shaking voice. He had so much he wanted to say, so many questions he needed answering. “Is this...am I dreaming?” _

_ Matteusz nodded. “I can’t reach you when you’re awake. I tried but...I didn’t want Him to notice me.” _

_ So many more questions flooded Charlie’s mind, but he forced them all back, taking a step closer. “When you say ‘reach’ me...are you in my head?” _

_ “Yes,” Matteusz said, though his face seemed unsure. “And you’re in mine.” _

_ The visions began to make sense now. If their minds were somehow connected, then those memories were real. _

_ “So...I…” He couldn’t find the right words to say. “There are so many questions.” _

_ Matteusz smiled, a smile that could have cleared the skies on a stormy night or lit up a whole room from nothing. “It’s ok. You can ask me.” _

_ Charlie plucked the first question he could from somewhere in the back of his mind and spoke it without thinking. “The bridge. What did you see there.” _

_ The smile faded, but Matteusz answered anyway. “A man died.” He said, speaking so frankly that Charlie was almost alarmed. “He jumped into the river and drowned himself.” _

_ The crowds, the uniformed figures. Slowly, it began to make sense. _

_ “When my parents explained it to me,” Matteusz continued, “they told me only bad people would ever want to die. That their souls go to Hell. When I tried to argue back…” His voice trailed off, but Charlie didn’t need the rest. He had seen the beating for himself. _

_ “I’m sorry.” Was all he could think to say. _

_ “Don’t be,” Matteusz said. “It wasn’t your fault.” _

_ “I didn’t mean that,” Charlie said, speaking almost on instinct. “I mean...I lost you, Matteusz. That thing took you from me and I...I let it happen. I didn’t do anything to stop it.” He found himself reaching out as if to make sure Mattuesz wouldn’t disappear if he touched him. When his fingers brushed Matteusz’s cheek, he felt a sudden rush of delight, a confirmation that all was not lost. Within moments, he was wrapping Matteusz in an embrace so tight it made him tremble. “I’m sorry.” He said, his voice drowned by tears. “I’m so sorry.” _

_ Matteusz didn’t return the gesture. He didn’t even seem to react. It was as if he wasn’t entirely there, like a part of him was missing. Deep down, Charlie knew why. This version of Matteusz, one that existed only in his own subconscious, was all that had been left when that creature had taken over his mind. What was left of his thoughts, his feelings, his memories, had retreated here in order to stay hidden. But Charlie didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to be with his boyfriend, to try and make up for all he had done wrong. _

_ “I can’t keep you here long.” Matteusz said once the moment had come to its natural end.”If He finds out I’m still here…”  _

_ Charlie released his grip, slowly and reluctantly, as if both of them would break if he moved too fast. “I’ll save you.” He said, a new resolve in his voice. _

_ “Charlie-” _

_ “No, don’t tell me I can’t! I’ll do it. I’ll make the others do it no matter what.” _

_ “The others?” Matteusz seemed lost. At first, Charlie didn’t understand why. Then he remembered Tanya and Ram. The last time Matteusz had seen them, the creature had nearly killed them both. _

_ “They’re fine,” Charlie said, speaking all in a rush. “Tanya and Ram. Or they will be, eventually. I meant The Doctor. The Doctor and her friends came to help us. They’ll save you.” _

_ Matteusz seemed to think for a moment, then asked in a low, quiet voice. “Save me? Or kill me?” _

_ “No,” Charlie said, anger flashing. “Don’t you dare say that. I will not let you die.” _

_ “You might not have a-” _

_ “There’s always a choice!” He snapped, so sharply that Matteusz stepped back. Charlie stopped, took a moment to regain control of his frantic breathing. “I won’t lose you again. I’ve lost too much already.” _

_ “Who are you doing this for, Charlie?” Matteusz asked. “Are you saving me for my sake, or for yours?” _

_ Charlie didn’t know how to respond. He felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. After everything that had happened, why was he still thinking about himself? _

_ “For both of us.” He said, eventually. The truth, he decided, needed to be said. He’d spent far too long living a lie. “I want to save you because I’d be lost without you. So yes, maybe I am being selfish. But I want to make up for that. That’s why…” he took a deep breath, blinking back tears, “...I need you to stay alive. For me.” _

_ A moment passed. A long, agonising moment that stretched on into the abyss around them. _

_ “Everything I’ve done has been for you,” Matteusz said, his words pushing the endless silence back into the void it had come from. “Ever since we met.” _

_ Charlie knew. He’d always known. He’d seen how devoted to him Matteusz had been, and he’d done nothing but abuse it.  _

_ “I’ll tell the others,” Charlie said. “I’ll tell them everything. If they don’t try and bring you back, I’ll make them.” _

_ Matteusz nodded, stepping towards him and pulling him close. They stood there, hands clasped, bodies together, breathing as one. When Matteusz spoke, he whispered in Charlie’s ear in a voice so soft Charlie barely heard it. “And I’ll find you again, tomorrow.” _

_ Charlie didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He would wait as long as it took to see Matteusz again. And he knew, somehow, that Matteusz would do the same for him. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting all Inception up in here!  
> Also, everything in this chapter is basically pure headcanon. I appreciate others probably have very different interpretations than me, but I decided Matteusz deserves a little more backstory than he got in the show. So here it is.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I was in a weird place emotionally yesterday and wanted to wait until everything had blown over.
> 
> Also, I may or may not have made this chapter 5,500 (or so) words long, so good luck getting through It all!

> _ “If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.” _

_ \-  _ 1984, George Orwell

* * *

“It’s a trick.” Quill’s voice was unimpressed, almost bored. 

The morning had come, and Charlie had woken from his dream with tear-stained cheeks and a new sense of resolve. He’d saved his story until The Doctor had arrived to collect them, but once they were together, he’d told them everything. About his dream, about the visions, and most of all about Matteusz. He had protested - insisted, even - that Matteusz was still alive. His mind had been preserved, hidden from the monster that walked in his body. He didn’t know what kind of reaction he’d expected. Excitement, perhaps. Hope. Maybe a little scepticism. But nothing like the scorn Quill’s look had given him.

“It’s one of the most obvious traps I’ve ever heard.” She went on, giving that teacher’s glare she had mastered in her brief time at Coal Hill.

April shook her head. “But why? Why does it have to be a trick?”

“Because this thing knows we’re after it,” Quill said with an exasperated sigh. “So what does it do? Pretend to be the prince’s boyfriend so we let our guard down, then it catches us unaware.”

“He has a name,” Charlie said through gritted teeth. “Use it.”

“Hang on a minute,” Graham said, looking from Charlie to The Doctor. “What happens if it’s not a trap? Do we just leave this lad to die?”

“No.” Charlie snapped, his temper flaring. “Matteusz is still alive, so we save him. Whatever it takes.”

“Which is exactly what it wants you to think.” Quill returned his snap with one of her own. “Are you seriously this gullible?”

April turned to Charlie. “I believe you.” She said. “I saw him in the hall that morning. He came back. He broke out of its control. Why else would Tanya and Ram…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but the meaning was clear. If Matteusz truly had been gone, Tanya and Ram would be dead.

“Fine, but don’t you think the first thing it would do is crush any kind of resistance?” Quill said, calmness returning to her voice. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it’s for your own good. We can’t just blindly accept something just because we’d like it to be true.”

All the while, The Doctor watched their argument, saying nothing, her face unreadable. She looked from Charlie to Quill, then to her friends as she leaned against the TARDIS console. “What do you guys think?” She asked eventually, speaking with no discernable emotion. 

“I believe them,” Graham said without hesitation. “I mean, from what I’ve heard.”

Ryan spent a little longer considering. “I guess I do too.” He said, with obvious uncertainty. 

It took almost half a minute more for Yaz to respond. She looked around the console room, as if the answer was on the wall somewhere. “I don’t know.” She said eventually. “I want to believe it but at the same time...I don’t know if I’d risk it.”

The Doctor nodded, staring down at the console, taking all the information in. After a moment, she looked up, “Then we carry on as we were.” She said, turning her gaze on Charlie. “Once we know more, then we can have this conversation again.”

“Know more?” Charlie repeated in disbelief. “You already know what’s going on here and you’re  _ still  _ not telling us anything.”

The Doctor watched him for a moment, then said in a low voice. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

The words left everyone dumbfounded, stunned into silence. A familiar creeping fear crawled its way down the back of his neck. He didn’t know if he’d understood her correctly, but her words seemed blatant. A warning, maybe. A threat. Or worse, a promise. 

Before any of them had a chance to respond, The Doctor set to work flicking switches and turning dials. “Right, here’s the plan.” Her usual chirpy optimism had returned, as if the past few minutes had never even happened. “We need to split up. Small groups work better for this.” She turned to Graham and Ryan. “You two stay here and look after the baby.”

Almost simultaneously, Graham and Ryan’s faces fell. “Oh.” The disappointment in Graham’s tone was obvious.

The Doctor ignored the remark, turning back to Quill. “I need you and Yaz to see if you can find any other possible incidents. We need to track this thing as best we can. Scour the internet if you have to.”

Yaz nodded, while Quill’s eyes had fallen on Graham and Ryan. She watched them with a stern intensity, as if she was considering whether to trust them with her child.

Lastly, The Doctor addressed Charlie and April. “Us three will go check out that house. I’ll take us back about a week before the attack. We go in, look around, then leave without making a fuss. If we’re lucky, there won’t be anyone there. Everyone clear?”

With varying degrees of enthusiasm, the group nodded their approval. The others began to file out through the now open doors, Ryan and Graham first, followed closely by Yaz. Quill lingered a little, stopping to speak to Charlie in hushed tones.

“Don’t let it trick you.” She said and left without waiting for a response.

* * *

The Doctor landed them in the hallway, small and cramped with doors to the left and centre. Stairs led upwards, the upper level obscured from view.

“Ah.” The Doctor said as she peered out from inside the TARDIS doors. “I had meant to drop us off 'round the corner.”

“What if they see us here?” April asked, her own voice barely a whisper.

“They won’t.” The Doctor said, stepping out into the hallway. “Turns out we did get lucky after all.”

Once they were all out, The Doctor looked back at the ship with some trepidation. “Actually, I think I will nip back around the corner. Saves any awkwardness if they come home early.” She didn’t wait for any kind of response, disappearing into the ship without another word. 

When it had screamed itself out of existence, Charlie and April shared a long glance.

“She seems way too happy about this,” April said, making a hesitant step towards the stairs. Charlie nodded in agreement. He looked around the hallway, trying to find any kind of personal touch to the room. The place seemed strangely barren and sparsely decorated, like no one lived here at all. He remembered the bedroom from his dream. Matteusz’s childhood room. Even that, soft and bright as it was, had seemed impersonal. Far too much so for a child’s room. The few decorations that did adorn the walls were all framed family portraits, hung with care and precision. He stopped to look at one, a picture of Matteusz’s parents that, for all Charlie could tell, seemed recent. The faces were older than the ones in his dream, but they were undoubtedly the same people. The mother with her gentle beauty, and the father standing tall beside her. They both wore fragile smiles, the kind that could break into scowls at a moment’s notice. Their eyes held no emotion, so empty that their faces seemed colder for having them.

“They have no idea.” He found himself saying.

April was halfway up the stairs when she turned to face him. “Sorry?”

Charlie couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but he carried on all the same. “In less than a week they’ll be dead and they’re completely oblivious.” An image flashed before his eyes, the faces in the photo twisted in pain and terror. Burning away into nothing. “Murdered by their own son.” He hadn’t realised he’d spoken those last words aloud until they had already been said. He regretted it almost instantly, now unable to stop himself from thinking of that thing standing before him in the hall, drenched in fresh blood.

April came back down the stairs, resting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not Matteusz doing those things.” She said, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“But they don’t know that,” Charlie said, looking back at the photograph. “They won’t see an alien possessing his body. They’ll just see him.” 

Or something worse, he thought afterwards. A Devil, like the one in the picture book. Cold and grey, drained of all humanity. The thought made him shudder.

“Do you think we could stop it?” April asked.

Charlie looked up, blinking away his daze. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” April seemed hesitant, uncertain. “...if we’ve been taken back in time, then it hasn’t happened yet. We could find Matteusz, tell him everything, then stop it all from happening.”

Charlie felt his heart leap up in his chest. A chance, no matter how small, was all he needed. He’d never travelled in time before. There were probably rules to things like this he couldn’t even begin to understand. Something that would destroy his hopes before he could even find them. 

“If it was possible, The Doctor would have already tried it.” He said, not letting the flicker of excitement show on his face.

“So you don’t think she’s hiding anything?” April asked, confusion lowering her voice.

“I do.” Charlie said, “But now I know why.” The thought had been lingering in the back of his mind since they’d arrived here, but he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it.

_ “You don’t want to know.”  _ Those words rang through him over and over. He knew what they meant now, and they hurt just as much as he imagined. 

“She thinks we can’t save him.” He said, all emotion gone from his tone.

He heard April’s stifled gasp, followed by a deep, long breath. “Why would you say that?” She asked, after what felt like an eternity.

“Because why else would she keep things from us? She told us herself, she thinks we don’t want to know the truth.” Now he did turn to face April, looking her dead in the eye. “She brought us here so we could work out where he might go next, but that doesn’t bring us any closer to saving him. She’s just trying to buy time.”

A kind of sadness Charlie had never seen before filled April’s eyes. A look of denial and hopelessness combined together, fighting for dominance. 

“Just because she thinks that doesn’t mean I do.” He said before she had a chance to protest. “I won’t give up on him just because she tells me to. I don’t care if they all turn against me, I will save him. No matter what it costs.” He realised, then, that he was shaking. His palms had closed into fists, his teeth clenched and his jaw tight. Anger flooded him, the defiant kind that sent sparks flying behind his eyes. They might have given up, but he never would. Even if it killed him.

A knock on the door made them both jump, the sound cutting through the tension that had settled in the air. For one dreadful moment, Charlie thought Matteusz’s parents had come home, but then he heard The Doctor’s muffled voice from outside.

“Can you let me in? Forgot the door was locked.”

Charlie sighed, the anger leaving him as quickly as it had arrived. April’s face seemed to relax too, though her eyes watched him warily. “I’ll stick with you.” She said, nodding as if to strengthen her resolve. Then she rushed past him, down through the hall and into the kitchen. A moment later, she came back with a set of keys. She gave a slight smile. “My mum used to joke that people always keep spare keys in the kitchen.”

The remark made no sense to Charlie, but he decided not to think too much of it. He watched as April fumbled with the lock, finally finding the right key and opening the door just enough to let The Doctor in.

When she entered, The Doctor's usual joviality had vanished, replaced by a look of determination. For once, it appeared she was taking the situation seriously. "Upstairs?" She asked, already halfway to the upper floor before she paused for an answer. Neither Charlie or April spoke, they simply followed. They couldn't bring themselves to contradict her, but neither did they want to agree. They both knew the intent behind those eyes. In her mind, there would be no miracle. No happy ending. All she saw now was an enemy, a being who threatened the safety of the planet. But they knew better. Or, at least, Charlie hoped they did.

* * *

The bedroom was bigger than the one he'd seen in his dream. While it still had the same sparse furnishings that made up the rest of the house, he found the room rich with personality. In the corner, just beyond the foot of the bed, was a desk, immaculately organised with notebooks arranged in neat piles and stationary lined in perfect order. Beside the door, a bookcase stood tall, reaching from floor to ceiling. The books that lined the shelves were arranged in all manner of different ways. First by colour, then the books of each colour were arranged in alphabetical order. The wash of colour seemed to reflect across the whole room, making even the pale blue walls seem vibrant. It was the room of someone precise and particular, someone who kept everything just so. But the neatness wasn't oppressive, merely comfortable. A reassuring calmness that masked the warmth within. For a moment, Charlie couldn't believe this was his boyfriend's bedroom. The image of the person Charlie imaged living here seemed nothing like the Matteusz he knew. But then he remembered. It had been weeks since Matteusz had lived in this room, and in that time he had seen things he never thought possible. Monsters. Aliens. A world beyond the one he knew. That kind of experience changed people, Charlie knew. It made weeks into years, every moment turning them into someone new. He almost wished he could have known the boy who had lived here, the one who did so much yet asked for so little. He wanted to see the real Matteusz, the one who hadn’t been tainted by the darkness this universe had to offer.

By the time he had come to his senses, he saw The Doctor and April already searching the room. The Doctor had gone straight to the desk, flicking through empty notebooks and opening whatever drawers she could find. April was scanning the titles on the bookcase, wondering if any of them might reveal some hidden information. The only places left to search were the wardrobe and dresser, so Charlie set about doing whatever he could. As he’d expected, the wardrobe was mostly empty. He had stayed home while Matteusz went to collect the rest of his things, a day or so after he had moved in, but he had helped to unpack as best he could. He remembered the bag of clothes, all completely ordinary. No remarkable sense of style, just casual, unassuming things.

_ “I just wear what I like.”  _ Matteusz had said in explanation.  _ “And I like most things.” _

Charlie remembered that day so vividly it might as well have been happening right before him. And yet, somehow, he had managed to miss so much. If that camera had been hidden away in a cupboard for all that time, there was no way of knowing how much else he had failed to notice.

The dresser, for the most part, was empty too. Though by now, Charlie was less surprised. If the rest of the house was anything to go by, Matteusz’s family didn’t care much for ornaments or sentimental objects. But in the final drawer, pushed as far back as they could go, Charlie found the boxes. Three of them in total, simple white storage boxes coated in a thin layer of dust. He pulled them out one at a time, taking care not to drop them. The first was light, so much so that it seemed empty. The second was heavier and rattled as its contents shifted inside. The final one, the one pushed the furthest back, felt full as well, though its contents seemed to fill the whole space. For a moment, Charlie thought about calling over the others, but looking at them once again changed his mind. Whatever was in these boxes was personal, something Matteusz had taken care to keep away. Charlie didn’t feel he had the right to let the others gawk over them. Not until he knew what was inside. Turning his head, checking he wasn’t being observed, he opened them one by one.

The first box, the lightest one, was filled with cards. Birthday cards, from the look of them. There must have been at least thirty of them, all stacked neatly one on top of the other. He picked one at random. A small one, clearly handmade, the handwriting inside delicate and precise. He was more than a little surprised to find the inscription was written in English until he remembered something The Doctor had mentioned about the TARDIS translating anything nearby. He read the inscription again, this time taking care to read the words themselves.

~

_ Dear Matti _

_ Have a wonderful birthday. I wish I could have been there to see you myself. You mean the world to me. _

_ All my love, _

_ Grandmother. _

_ ~ _

It was such a simple message, and yet it still left Charlie lost for words. He remembered Matteusz mentioning his grandmother once before, that afternoon they had spent trapped with the prisoner in the rock. He wondered how close the two of them had been, or whether she had been anything like the parents Matteusz had feared so much. Charlie put the card back where he had found it, closing the box before he allowed himself to think about it any further. Now was not the time to be distracted.

When he opened the second box, he found it full of trinkets. All kinds of things he couldn’t even begin to understand. A camera sat on top of the pile, the digital kind he was somewhat used to, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn it on. There were memories stored there, hidden secrets he didn’t have the right to unearth. Beneath that, he saw all kinds of tokens and ornaments. A framed photograph, one with the same faces as the one in the hallway, only younger. For the first time, their smiles seemed genuine as they both looked towards the baby in the mother’s arms. There was only one person that the baby could realistically be, and Charlie didn’t want to let himself think about it for too long. He turned the photo over before it could bring tears to his eyes, closing the box without a second glance. He felt as if he had no right to be here. None of them did. They were all trespassers in someone else’s life, rooting through memories like scavengers. It made him feel sick, the thought of them breaking in with no regard to basic decency. 

But, even so, curiosity overtook him. He had to see inside the third box. Once he knew it wouldn’t help them - which would almost certainly be the case - he could walk out, make the others go with him. He could confront The Doctor about her secrecy, maybe even convince her to actually help them rather than just let an innocent person die. When he opened the third box, he moved quickly, as if he expected to find some kind of deadly creature inside. A snake or a scorpion ready to lash out and attack. Instead, he found a stack of notebooks. Five of them in total, each one seemingly well-used. He took the first one, almost setting it aside before he saw the inscription.

_ Matteusz Andrzejewski. Age 12 _

He wished he could have left it. Whatever was written in this book, Charlie knew he wasn't meant to see it. Just as he hadn't been meant to see anything in this room. But he couldn't stop himself. Even if it didn't bring them any closer to saving Matteusz, it would bring them closer to knowing him. After all the time they'd been together, Charlie felt he owed him at least that much.

The handwriting inside was neater than he'd expected. Much smaller too, so much so that it was almost hard to pick out the words. After a few false starts, Charlie managed to decipher the entry.

~

_ Mother says I have to keep writing. She says improving my English will help me make friends. I've seen the others in school and I don't want to be friends with any of them, but mother insists. She watches me while I do it. Sometimes she stops me and reads over my shoulder, asks me if I know what all the words mean. She always treats me like a baby. Sometimes I think I hate her. _

~

The other entries were much the same. Short and simple, yet filled with raw, unfiltered emotions. They were true thoughts, Charlie understood. Free from any kind of expectations. Pen and paper never judged the same way people did. He picked up another book, one from age 14, and opened to a random page.

~

_ I don't understand why people won't talk to me. They all look at me when I walk past Like they're staring into my soul. They don't sit near me either. Sometimes I wonder if I really am cursed, like father always used to say. Maybe the problem is me. _

~

Every book, one for each year from 12 to 16, went much the same way. Every entry was dated, underlined and neatly clipped to one page. Once he had started, Charlie couldn't stop reading them. He had to see everything, had to know just how much he'd missed. As he read, the room around him seemed to fade into nothing. The Doctor and April vanished, irrelevant and forgotten. Only three things existed anymore - Charlie, the notebooks, and Matteusz, somewhere out there, waiting for him. The final entry in the final book, dated August of age 16, lay open as the world faded back into view. By now, the words themselves barely even registered. It was the feelings that mattered, the emotion locked in every page.

~

_ If I'm thankful for one thing, I'm thankful for this. Maybe I can't ever talk to my parents without them yelling at me. Maybe others don't want to be around me. But I have this. I can say anything I want here and not have to worry about who hates me. I know everything written here is true because I have nobody to lie to anymore. Only myself. And if I can't be truthful with myself, why should anyone else be truthful with me? _

~

"You found something?"

The words caught Charlie off guard, made him cry out and drop the book in a panic. He turned, saw The Doctor looking down at him with April standing close behind.

"No," Charlie said, just realising how shaky and uncertain his voice sounded. Tears threatened to blur his vision, stripping him of all composure. With quick, sharp movements, he thrust the books back into their box and set about returning everything to its original place. "I'm leaving. Right now." He stood up, every nerve ending alight, sparking with intent. He felt that sense of resolve fill him again, the same angry determination he had felt in the hall barely half an hour ago.

"Why?" April asked, stepping forward, concern furrowing her brow.

"Because it's not right." Charlie snapped, every part of him tense, ready for action. "We shouldn't be here."

"We need to try and find out-" The Doctor began, but Charlie refused to let the charade go on any longer.

"Why don't you just come out and say it? You need to keep us busy so we think you're trying to help us."

The Doctor's eyes darkened, her voice lowering in warning. "Charlie, just calm down for a minute."

"Calm down?" Charlie repeated, almost laughing in contempt. "My boyfriend is possessed by a murderous alien, all because I did nothing to stop it! You want me to calm down while you stand around and do nothing all over again?"

"This isn't doing nothing, Charlie." The Doctor said, with infinite patience.

"Oh, no. You're right. It's breaking into someone's home and gawking at all their belongings."

"I'm not having this argument with you right now." The Doctor said, starting to turn away.

"Then leave." Charlie bit back, speaking before he'd even considered what he wanted to say.

The room fell into an agonising silence. All three of them stared at one another, none of them willing to be the one who fired the first shot. 

In the end, none of them had to. Instead, the clicking of a door opening downstairs shattered all tension in the room. In an instant, the air felt colder, the room darker. Dread began to creep its way into his body, all while his breath seemed to fail him. Someone was here. They'd arrived home early. And the three of them were trapped in the bedroom. This time, the look they shared was one of silent agreement. All three of them began to edge their way towards the bedroom door, moving so slowly and quietly they were almost still. Muffled voices rose up from the hallway, barely audible through the closed door. With a silent, deft hand, The Doctor reached out, grabbing the handle as lightly as she dared and easing the door open. Now, the voices became clearer, drifting towards them. 

“You definitely locked it when we left?” The man’s voice asked, his words harsh and icy.

“Yes.” Came the woman’s reply. “I’m certain.”

Charlie found himself turning to April, disbelief creeping onto his face. “You forgot to lock the door?” He said as quietly as he could, almost mouthing the words rather than speaking them.

April’s face reddened. “Sorry.” She mouthed back. “I didn’t think.”

From downstairs, they heard the jangling of keys. “Did you leave these here?” The man asked, his tone now a warning.

“No. I swear I didn’t.” The woman said, her words unwavering.

There was a long pause. A moment in which no one dared speak. Then, peering over The Doctor’s shoulder, Charlie saw the man’s eyes shift to the stairs. The three of them ducked back inside, taking care to keep as quiet as they could.

“Then it’s him.” The man said, low and quiet. “He thought he could sneak back in while we were gone.”

There was a sound of movement, of feet pounding across the carpeted floor.

“Wait.” Came the woman’s voice. “Are you sure?”

“Who else?” The man snapped back, his voice blazing with fury. “I told that boy if I ever saw him here again, I’d-”

“He’s our son!” The woman’s voice cut in. “For God’s sake, show some compassion.”

For a moment there was no reply, only the sound of retreating footsteps followed by the smack of skin against skin and a stifled cry of pain. Charlie winced but forced himself to keep still.

“Do not take that tone with me.” The man said, his voice cold and unforgiving.

They’d heard enough. Silently, moving like a distant ghost, The Doctor crept away from the door. She seemed to glide across the floor, so quiet she might not have even been there. Turning back to them, she pointed to the window.

Charlie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Too high up.” He mouthed, ever wary of the voices downstairs.

“No choice.” The Doctor mouthed back.

Charlie shook his head but felt a hand on his shoulder. April’s hand. He looked at her, saw the panic in her eyes, but took comfort in her smile. When it came down to it, everyone around him always seemed far braver than he was. He felt as if he was always the last to act, usually at someone else’s insistence. He had almost let himself be blackmailed by Dorothea. He was the last person who’d picked up that rock. He’d waited until the last moment to stop the Shadow-Kin, costing Tanya and Ram their families in the process. Worst of all, he hadn’t paid attention to Matteusz until it had been too late. He remembered the afternoon in their bedroom, remembered the words Matteusz had spoken to him.

_ “I think I might be lost, Charlie.” _

Yet he’d done nothing. Just like he always did. But not anymore.

The Doctor was already at the window by the time he looked back at her, trying to open it without making a sound. He listened as close as he could for the sound of voices, for any sign that Matteusz’s parents were making their approach. At the same time, he watched the window open, watched The Doctor gingerly sit on the ledge and ease her legs over. For a horrible moment, Charlie thought this would be the end. They were all going to fall to their deaths and then it would all be over. Ram and Tanya would be stuck in some alien hospital. Quill would have no one to help her look after her daughter. And Matteusz would be lost forever. He heard The Doctor’s long, deep intake of breath before she dropped down, out of sight. 

Charlie and April just stood there, neither of them daring to move. Charlie felt as if all the strength had left his body, that if he took so much as a step, he would shatter into a thousand pieces. Downstairs, an argument was beginning to rage, voices raised and words clipped. They wouldn’t get another chance. Grabbing the door handle, Charlie closed the door as quietly as he could. Anything to buy them a little more time. There were no shouts of alarm raised downstairs, so he assumed they hadn’t been seen. Then, he and April made their way to the window.

“I can go first if you want,” April whispered, looking back to the door with wary eyes. 

Charlie nodded in response, not trusting his voice to stay measured. He watched April move to the ledge, just as The Doctor had. Almost instinctively, Charlie grabbed her waist to support her, terrified she might stumble and fall. He didn't dare look over the ledge. He didn’t want to see whatever was down there. April turned back to him, smiling as best she could. She took his hand from her waist and gripped it tight, breathing deep to calm her nerves.

“It’s alright.” She said. Then, she let go and dropped.

He had to move. If he didn’t, he’d be found up here alone, a trespasser in a stranger’s home. But his limbs felt like stone and his heart was beating so frantically that it hurt. Silently, moving so slow he might as well have been a statue, he peered over the ledge. He’d seen a two-storey drop many times before when he’d looked out of his own bedroom window. But now that he had to jump, he might as well have been standing on top of a skyscraper. He felt cold, so cold he might freeze in place. He watched The Doctor rush to April’s side, helping her stand. The two of them looked dazed, maybe a little bruised, but otherwise unharmed. All sound disappeared from the world, replaced by a high pitched whine and a deafening emptiness. His body seemed to move on its own, already bringing his legs over the window ledge. In a sudden moment of panic, he remembered his dream. Only this time he wasn’t watching Matteusz and his family, he was the man on the bridge. Any minute now he would jump into the river below, and death would finally claim him. His palms were slick with sweat. Every muscle was tensed, ready for impact. He looked down, looked at the urging faces below. He closed his eyes. He took a breath. He jumped.

The fall didn’t even register. One moment he was on the ledge, the next his feet slammed painfully into the ground below. He went down, his legs collapsing beneath him and bringing his body to meet the ground below. Surprisingly soft. Not pavement, but grass and dirt. The world seemed to vanish. He could feel his heartbeat everywhere in his body. His eyes refused to open. His ears rang. But he was alive. Alive and unharmed. Hands grabbed him, hauling him up to his feet. As they rested him down, a sharp spike of pain struck his ankles and rushed up through his legs.

“Are you ok?” Came the voice. April’s voice. 

He tried to nod, but his head was still swimming.

“We have to run.” The Doctor said. “They’ll find us if we don’t.”

A hand grabbed his, firm and sudden, and soon he was being pulled along. With no other choice, he ran, pain still shooting through him from the impact. Even with his eyes open, he felt as if he was stumbling blindly, guided only by April’s hand as they ran. He didn’t know how much time had passed, minutes and seconds all blended into one. His breathing was ragged and shallow, his nerves alive with adrenalin. Still, they ran, on and on until they were off the street, and into the waiting TARDIS. He heard The Doctor click her fingers and the light from outside vanished as the doors swung shut. Only then did Charlie allow his legs to give way, falling to his knees and gasping for air. It wasn’t the running that had drained him. It was everything else. The pain, the emotion, the memories, all sucking away at his very being. Somewhere to the side, he saw April leaning on the console for support and The Doctor flicking at switches and dials. But they didn’t matter to him anymore. With no strength left in him to fight them, he let the tears overtake him and the sadness swallow him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it even slightly realistic that a person could jump out of a two-storey window without being injured? Probably not, but I wrote myself into a corner and needed a way to get out of it. Please don't judge me too harshly.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm really not used to this. And by 'this', I mean putting my own concepts/characters in fanfiction. I've almost always kept my original work and my fanfic entirely separate but I realised I needed to actually develop the thing I keep bringing up every few chapters. I really hope that it isn't absolutely awful and pointless.

> _ “Cruelty has a human heart _
> 
> _ And Jealousy a human face, _
> 
> _ Terror the human form divine _
> 
> _ And Secrecy the human dress.” _

\- A Devine Image, William Blake

* * *

They were back in the present within the hour. The Doctor had left them to themselves for a while, giving them space to collect themselves after the ordeal they had just endured. She half-led, half-carried Charlie to a room deep within the sprawling ship. Something that looked like a guest bedroom. He ought to have been surprised to find such a room on a ship like this, but all he could think about was sinking into the mattress and letting all his emotions wash away. He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even think until The Doctor arrived to collect him.

"I thought we'd go visit your friends." She said as she came in. "See how they're doing."

Charlie said nothing in reply. His mind was empty. His body was a soulless husk. All determination and resolve had deserted him, left him hollow and tired. But he couldn't just stay here. No matter how much he wanted to curl up and give in, he had to see Tanya and Ram.

"You'll feel better in a bit." The Doctor said, as if she had read his mind. 

With great reluctance, he sat up, his neck stiff from lying in the same position for so long. He stood, strength returning to his muscles. Already he was beginning to feel more like himself. After the weeks he had spent shut away in his room, nothing he felt seemed to warrant grief anymore. 

They were waiting for him in the console room. April watched him with eyes that held an emotion that words could not describe. Seeing them all there, going on as normal, Charlie began to realise how pathetic he had been. They weren’t wasting their time crying, they knew there were more important matters at hand. He wondered how much time he would waste feeling sorry for himself before he finally learned. Then, he realised he didn’t want to know the answer.

“You’re taking us to this hospital, then?” He asked, trying to force some authority into his words.

“Yep.” The Doctor answered with her usual pep. “Best place I know.”

“Are these the same people who gave Ram his new leg?” April asked, playing absently with the sleeve of her t-shirt.

The Doctor gave a confused look. “The giant centipedes?” She gave a small laugh. “Oh no. They might be experts in prosthetics, but their bedside manner leaves something to be desired.” She sighed to herself, as if sharing a private joke. “No, these are the people I brought Quill to. And you, now that I think about it.”

April’s eyes widened. “Me?” She repeated. “But I don’t-”

“Well, no. I wouldn't expect you to remember it. They kept you asleep for most of the time.”

April looked down, as if the thought of what had happened with her and the Shadow-Kin made her ashamed.

“How did they save her?” Charlie asked. At least some part of him wanted to take the burden of conversation off April’s shoulders for a while, but another part of him held some small hope. April’s mind had been taken over too. She’d had part of an alien inside her, shared a connection with a monster. If she could be saved, then there was hope for Matteusz. At least, that’s what Charlie told himself.

The Doctor thought a moment before responding. “Well, in the end, it was more simple than I’d thought.” She walked towards him, leaning against one of the great crystal structures surrounding the console. “When you...well, when you killed the Shadow-Kin, there was no one left for April to share her heart with. No connection between them anymore. After that, it was just about putting her mind back in the right body.”

“That doesn’t sound simple,” Charlie said, dubious.

“Maybe not to you,” She said, “but these people are centuries ahead of anyone else when it comes to medicine. Even a Rhodian would be surprised.”

April still hadn’t looked up. She was staring at the floor, wringing her hands with rhythmic intent. Her face was red With shame or anger, Charlie couldn’t tell. In the end, he decided not to press the issue any further. The wounds the Shadow-Kin left still hadn’t fully healed. Families were still lost. Lives still ruined. Charlie couldn’t even begin to imagine what April was feeling. Maybe she blamed herself. Maybe, in her mind, she had as good as killed all those people. A thought flashed through Charlie’s mind, one that sent a shiver down his spine. Even if they did save Matteusz, is this how he would feel? This guilt, this shame, over something he couldn't control. Or would it somehow be worse?

* * *

Charlie had never been inside a hospital before. He'd never known anyone in his life who'd been sick enough to need one. And even if they had, his family were royalty. They had their own personal army of doctors and physicians ready to treat even the most minor of ailments. But he found this one to be no different from how he'd imagined a hospital to look. The walls were white and sterile, the floors polished to a gleam. There was something artificial about the place, like nothing truly belonged there. Every door and window, every chair and bench, seemed fake somehow. Too perfect to be real. And yet, somehow it all fit. The unnerving quiet, the forced solemnity, all seemed right in a way he didn't quite understand.

When they arrived, mere moments after stepping through the TARDIS' doors, the three of them were greeted by two members of hospital staff. At least, Charlie assumed they were staff. The clothes they wore seemed far too elaborate to be anything other than a uniform. They were both dressed identically, their shirts and trousers a crisp, clean white, robed in an unfamiliar fabric. Their faces were covered by white, silken veils that gave them an almost ethereal quality. The Doctor didn't seem at all unnerved by their presence, so Charlie forced his concerns aside and followed them down the corridor.

"Did they know we were coming?" April asked from behind, her voice hushed as if to avoid drawing attention to herself.

"Yep." The Doctor nodded, oblivious to April's discomfort. "As soon as anyone gets within range of the place, the people here know exactly who they are and what they're after. They probably already know when we're leaving, too."

The thought sent another shudder down Charlie's spine. He didn't like the idea that some physician here knew more about his visit than he did.

As if she had heard his thoughts, The Doctor laughed to herself. "Ok, it's not quite so simple. They're not reading your mind or anything, only medical stuff. Saves time on the diagnosis and makes it easier to get straight onto treatment."

Charlie wasn't sure he liked that idea any more than the other one, but he didn't feel like raising an argument. All he wanted was to see Tanya and Ram, to get some kind of reassurance that not everything had been lost.

The walk seemed to go on forever. They passed more corridors and hallways than Charlie had seen in his entire life, each of them with the same white, sterile feel. Every so often, they would pass another robed, veiled figure, who would nod at them courteously before continuing on their way. 

“How big is this place?” Came April’s voice, as if she had been thinking the same thing.

“The hospital?” The Doctor responded, not bothering to turn around. “Didn’t I tell you? The whole planet’s a hospital.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “The whole planet?” He repeated, unsure of how else to respond.

“Oh yeah.” The Doctor said, as if this was the kind of thing she saw every day. “It’s not unusual for something so technologically advanced. I’ve seen cities that take over an entire planet if they’re left long enough. There’s even a moon out there somewhere used as a warehouse.” She seemed to pause for a moment. “Though I wouldn’t recommend going there in a hurry.”

Charlie felt content leaving the conversation there. He already had enough on his mind without having to contend with planet-sized hospitals. But April seemed to have other ideas.

“Where do they find the staff?” She asked, her voice hushed so as not to draw the attention of the people in front. “You’d need millions of people to keep this going.”

The Doctor slowed her pace, falling back between them. “Well,” She said, her tone matching April’s “look around for a minute. See if you notice anything.”

As much as Charlie didn’t want to, he found himself following The Doctor’s gaze. They were coming up to an intersection, their own corridor crossing with another. They took a sudden turn, went left as the corridor opened. But just before they turned away completely, Charlie saw it. Far ahead, along the path they had just left, were four more of the robed figures. Only these ones didn’t walk in careful silence. They ran, the faint sound of laughter echoing through the corridor. Even from a distance, Charlie could tell they were children.

“They’re born here.” He said, more to himself than anyone else.

The Doctor nodded. “The planet’s a hospital and the people are the staff.” She glanced forward, checking their conversation hadn’t been overheard. “No one really knows how it all came about. The origin of this place is one of the great mysteries of the universe.”

“But you could find out, right?” April seemed puzzled. “You have a time machine.”

The Doctor shrugged. “Some things are better left as mysteries, don’t you think. Leaves a little to the imagination.”

As the sound of the children’s laughter faded behind them, Charlie felt a pang of sympathy for them. He knew what it was like to have his whole life decided for him. To be raised from birth for one thing, and one thing alone. He knew the kind of toll it took on a person’s mind, how many of the simple pleasures in life had to be lost. They would never know anything other than this life, just as he knew nothing other than being a prince. He hadn’t known what it was like to make his own choices. He hadn’t known how to put others before himself. And he had never had to learn how to work for the things he wanted. He’d been lonely and cold, an empty shell of a child, but he’d also been spoilt, pampered from the moment he was born. In that moment, a lot of things seemed to make sense for him. He wanted to be loved, to be happy like a normal person should be, but he had never thought about how to do that for himself. He had expected everyone else to do the hard work for him, to fall in line around him. All because he’d never known anything else.

* * *

It seemed like an eternity before their guides stopped them in front of a set of double doors. The Doctor went straight in, not giving a moment's hesitation. Charlie and April stayed back, wary of what they might find inside. The windows were filled by frosted glass, obscuring anything that lay in the room beyond.

"It'll be fine," April said, though Charlie wasn't entirely sure whether she meant it. They exchanged a glance, taking comfort in each other's presence, then stepped forward. The doors slid open, revealing a spacious room decorated in the same uniform white as the rest of the hospital. The windows on the far wall seemed to look out over a sprawling green landscape dotted with patches of purple heather but, on closer inspection, Charlie saw that it was nothing more than a projection. A simulated background masking whatever waited on the other side. The other windows, the ones that looked out onto the corridor, were now clear, the frosted glass fading into transparency as they stepped beyond the threshold. Inside, the room seemed well furnished. Two beds sat at opposite ends, surrounded by crisp, white curtains. Beside them were sinks and mirrors, simple and unassuming. In the middle lay a table, bare and unused. It all seemed surprisingly mundane. So much so that Charlie felt almost disappointed.

Two more of the robed doctors turned to face them as they entered. The first stood by Ram's bedside, watching him as he gingerly bent his arm back and forth, testing the newly mended bone. The other was at Tanya's side, a supporting hand on her shoulder while she walked with uneasy footing. When they looked up, Charlie found himself locking eyes with the one beside Tanya. He held their gaze for no more than a second, but it was enough to see their face in detail. Without their veil, and even with the covering of a mask over their mouth, Charlie saw skin a shade of pure emerald green, marred by deep scars in the forehead that seemed to form some kind of symbol. He turned his head away to hide the shudder that ran through him, listening to the sound of footsteps gradually leaving the room. 

"Tanya!" April beamed once they were alone. She hurried over to where Tanya stood, resting her weight on a crutch Charlie hadn't noticed before. April seemed to spot it too as her excitement faltered. 

"Can I...can I hug you? Is that ok, or will I-?"

Before April could finish, Tanya had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, squeezing her in as tight a hug as she could manage.

"I missed you," Tanya said, her face breaking into a smile.

Charlie found himself looking over at Ram, sitting in the bed with a look of uncertainty. Like he wasn't sure how he was supposed to be feeling. April saw him too, releasing Tanya from the hug and making her way over to his bedside. The two of them exchanged a look, long and meaningful. A look that said more than words ever could. April leaned closer, moving to plant a kiss on his cheek, but Ram turned his head at the last minute. Their lips met, and soon they were lost in each other's touch. Charlie wondered whether he should look away, leave them to their moment, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Watching their kiss seemed like the closest he could get to having one of his own. A kiss with the person he loved most. The one he had lost.

When the moment had passed, April took a step back, trying to give Ram his space.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her voice heavy and sad despite the smile on her face.

"I'm fine," Ram said, though his eyes were hard and cold. "I thought you might've come sooner."

"I know. I-I'm really sorry." April said, stumbling over her words. "I wanted to, I really did. We've just...we've been busy." She turned back to face The Doctor, who nodded encouragingly in response. Charlie didn't know whether he ought to nod as well, but Tanya spoke up before he had the chance.

“How long has it been for you guys?” She asked.

April blinked in confusion. “What do you mean ‘for us’?” She turned back to The Doctor, who seemed to flush.

"Ah, yes." The Doctor said, her eyes avoiding April's. "Probably should've mentioned. The hospital sort of...has its own timestream. Helps from the family perspective, you know?"

April's eyes moved back to Tanya. "We thought we'd only been away two days." Her voice was heavy, almost faltering as she spoke.

“More like two weeks,” Ram muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Charlie had to fight against the flash of anger that burned through him all in an instant. Just one more thing The Doctor wasn't telling them.

"Well, you have." The Doctor said. "In your time, anyway." 

No one responded. All eyes had turned to The Doctor, staring at her with a burning intensity. She sighed. "Alright. I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to worry, what with…well, everything else."

The room fell into silence once again. It was as if even the thought of what was happening back on Earth had robbed them all of their speech.

“When can they leave?” Charlie asked, suddenly and without thinking. With all the staff elsewhere, he found himself looking for any excuse to get The Doctor out of the room. He wanted to talk to the others alone, without her watchful, doubting eyes fuelling his irrational anger.

If The Doctor knew what he was doing, she didn’t show it. She glanced to the door with a grin. “I’ll go find out for you.” She said, sauntering towards the doors. They all watched her leave, waiting for the doors to fully slide shut before continuing. 

Charlie couldn’t help it, he breathed a long sigh of relief. When he looked over to April, he saw the same in her expression. This felt better, felt right. The four of them had proved more than capable of stopping monsters in the past. They had grown almost used to it, developed their own way of responding to any threats. Having The Doctor around disrupted that. He imagined it was the same for her friends too - Ryan, Graham and Yaz. They were a team with The Doctor, and having a bunch of teenagers around probably made them feel somewhat out of their depth. But they could do it, the four of them, just like they had done before. The four of them and Quill, when she was around. And Matteusz, too. He’d always been there, seeing the same horrors and fighting the same monsters.

Not that any of them had ever noticed.

Charlie banished the thought from his mind, his heart pounding as the shame began to crawl its way through him. He didn’t have time to linger on it much longer, as Tanya finally broke the silence that had settled in the air.

“Have you found him yet?” She didn’t even need to speak his name. They all knew. No matter what else they were doing or thinking, the thought of him always stuck with them.

Charlie couldn’t find the words to respond, so he just shook his head. Even that seemed difficult, admitting his failure in front of everyone.

“The Doctor’s been helping. She’s looking for all the places he might have been.” April said, though the words seemed hollow. Again, they used that word, ‘him’, like they were talking about the man and not the monster. 

“Does she know what happened to him?” Tanya asked. She brought herself closer, moving herself to the table in the centre of the room. She sat on the edge, slowly and steadily, wincing slightly as she did. Even in two weeks, her recovery was remarkable. An image flashed through Charlie’s mind. The splinter sticking out of Tanya’s side, drenching her clothes in blood. Now, she seemed almost healed, like she hadn’t done much more than pull a muscle.

April looked warily to Charlie. “We think she might.” She said, caution in her words. “But she’s not saying anything just yet.”

“What does it matter?” Ram sighed, irritation biting at his words. “He’s gone, isn’t he? Shouldn’t you be out there stopping him?”

“He’s not gone,” Charlie said, speaking on instinct. “He’s still out there. It’s our job to save him.”

“Save him?” Ram repeated, his tone mocking and dismissive. “He tried to kill us! He’s way past saving now.”

“That wasn’t him.” Charlie snapped, moving closer to Ram’s bed. “You know it wasn’t.”

“Oh, do I?” Ram said, pulling himself upright as best he could.

“Ram, stop it.” April protested, but her words were met with a dismissive scoff.

“Have you all forgotten what actually happened?” Ram said, his eyes falling on each of them in turn. “Did you even look at him?”

The memories came in an instant, a tidal wave that threatened to overwhelm him. He saw the figure that had once been his boyfriend, saw the sickly grey skin and blank, white eyes. The blood spilling black from wounds that left no pain. He heard the dozens of voices that all spoke as one, remembered the words that had carved their way into his mind.

_ “You made this happen.” _

Ram went on, “We’re supposed to stop the monsters. We don’t waste our time trying to save them. You only care because he used to hang around with us. If he’d been some random kid, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He turned on Charlie, fixing him with a glare devoid of sympathy. “You’re the big problem here. Getting everyone all riled up just because he slept with you.”

In that moment, Charlie almost lost himself. A red haze descended over his mind, blinding him to anything other than Ram and his bitter words. His hand clenched into a fist, his arm began to rise, ready to strike. It would have all fallen apart had it not been for April.

“Is that what you thought of me?” She spoke in a voice so low and cold, Charlie almost didn’t recognise it. All the anger left him in a moment, taking his strength with it. 

All eyes turned on April, though her gaze never left Ram. “When Corakinus had my heart. When he tried to take me over. Did you think of me like that?”

Her words sent a chill down Charlie’s spine. He had seen April angry before. He had seen her as the king of the Shadow-Kin, fighting for her life and the lives of those around her. But he had never seen her like this. This anger was not the fiery rage of the Shadow-Kin, but something cold and hollow. Something human.

Ram’s expression faltered. “No. I’d never-”

“Then what makes this any different?” April asked. 

Ram gave no response. It seemed as if everyone in the room had been left dumbstruck by April’s words. She didn’t stop, though. Keeping her eyes locked on Ram, she went on.

“Why is it ok to stand up for one friend, but not another?”

Ram seemed to have a retort, but April cut him off before he could speak. “And don’t say he’s not our friend. He was part of our group and he mattered as much as any of us. Even if we didn’t realise that until now.” Her expression softened, the coldness leaving her voice. “It’s thinking like that, thinking people don’t ‘count’ as our friends that started all this in the first place. Matteusz trusted us and we let him down. He thought he could come to us for help and we turned him away.”

Tanya’s eyes widened, a look of dread creeping onto her face. “What do you mean?”

April sighed. “Oh. I guess I was talking more to myself there.” She lowered her eyes, as if in shame. “The day The Doctor brought me back, Matteusz came to me for help. He said he wanted to talk about something and I…” She took a deep breath, “I told him no. I didn’t think it was important.”

Charlie’s heart dropped in his chest. Matteusz had gone to April too. He remembered, for the second time that day, when Matteusz had sat by his bedside. Charlie hadn’t wanted to hear it either. He’d wanted to be alone, to fester in his own self-pity. But then, only moments later, April had come to him. He’d never thought about it before, but he suddenly felt sick thinking about how that must have looked. To ignore his boyfriend when he needed him most, only to come back for someone else.

"He came to me as well." Tanya's voice cut across the room. Charlie looked at her in surprise. He had been about to say those exact words himself, to finally confess in an attempt to rid himself of guilt, only to be beaten to it. He let Tanya speak, more out of respect than curiosity.

"We saw each other one morning before school." She said. "He didn't say much, just that he thought there was something to do with a rift. I told him I didn't want to get involved, and that…" she faltered, almost overcome by some sudden rush of emotion, "...that we were never friends."

He should have been angry. In a way, they were all admitting they had let this happen. That they had ignored someone in desperate need of help. He had gotten angry over far less, he thought. Like the time Matteusz had questioned his morals over the Cabinet. He had been furious then, so much so that it had almost broken them apart. Hadn't it been his suggestion that Matteusz didn't stay with him for a while? Had it not been his fault that his boyfriend had slept in a car? All because he decided to speak his mind, or had been forced to confess the truth. But Charlie couldn't justify anger here. Not with the others. The only person who deserved that anger was himself.

Tanya's eyes turned on Ram. "Didn't you say he texted you once?" She asked.

Ram narrowed his eyes. "Yeah. Maybe he did."

"Was he asking for help?" April asked, hesitation in her words.

"How should I remember? It was weeks ago." Ram's response was defensive, bordering on curt and bitter. The others seemed to agree to leave it at that before things could get any worse. Nobody asked Charlie if he had been approached. They all knew.

But none of them had a chance to react. The thought had no time to sink in before the sliding doors opened once again and The Doctor returned, smiling as broadly as ever.

"Good news." She said. "Well, sort of. Good news compared to the alternative." She seemed oblivious to the weight on all of their minds. "All being well, they're saying Tanya could be fully recovered within the week. Ram, on the other hand, might need a little longer. Say, another couple of weeks. Their time, not ours."

No one seemed to react. Even Ram had fallen silent. There were no words left to be said.

The Doctor seemed puzzled. "Did something happen?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"No," Charlie said before anyone else could speak. "We're ready to go back now."

* * *

Their goodbyes were quick, none of them willing to bear the weight of any more emotional moments. They all took solace in the fact that they would be together again soon, that there would be time to say whatever needed to be said. Even the walk back to the TARDIS seemed to pass by in an instant. All Charlie could do was think. Think about the strange pattern his life had fallen into. No matter what he was doing, he had been cycling through the same few feelings ever since he had lost Matteusz. First would be determination, a fire that fuelled his every move. Desperation to find some way to make everything right. Then would come anger, triggered by an offhand comment or a truth he knew was being kept hidden. Then the guilt would creep in, cold and empty. The realisation that his anger towards everyone else only served to mask his own shame and regret. He seemed to feel nothing else anymore. He was lost in a never-ending spiral of determination, anger, and shame. Each one fighting for dominance, for the right to overwhelm him. He didn't know how much longer it would last. How long before he burned himself out? Before all the fight left him, and he went back to wallowing in self-pity? No matter how many times he asked that question, he feared he may never get an answer.

They arrived back in the TARDIS and left with little more than a few words. The Doctor eyed him and April with suspicion. 

“Are you sure nothing happened back there?” She asked.

“Yes,” Charlie said, not wanting to start that conversation up again. “Everything's fine.” If The Doctor refused to tell him what was really going on, why should he do the same for her?

"So where do we go now?" April asked, her voice still heavy from their earlier argument.

"Well, that depends." The Doctor said, "We could go back to the school, see if there's anything there that'll help us. I'm pretty sure they closed the place until...well, until everything's sorted, I guess. Or we could go back to Ryan and Graham, see how they're getting on with the baby."

It all seemed like pointless time-killing. Nothing that would bring them closer to a solution. Charlie almost protested before a ringing sound stopped him in his tracks. The ringing of a phone. He hardly had time to wonder if the TARDIS even had a phone before The Doctor was darting over to the console. She picked up a small mobile, answering with hurried words.

"Yes? Hello."

A moment passed as she listened to the response.

"Wait, wait." She said. "Give me a sec. I'll link you up." She flicked another series of switches before laying the phone down. "Can you hear me?"

"Yep." It was Yaz's voice, speaking in a tone of urgency that matched The Doctor's.

"Did you find anything?" The Doctor asked.

"Well, yeah. We did. Quite a bit actually." Yaz seemed unsure in her response, as if she didn't even know what it was she'd found. "That's the thing. You might want to come here and see. It's hard to explain."

The Doctor nodded. "We'll be right with you. Hold on tight."

The call ended and The Doctor set about plotting their course. Her step had a new flourish in it, her movements invigorated. "Well then." She said, turning to him and April. "Off we go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a serious note, I tried to make the concept of the hospital seem as 'Doctor Who' as I could. Whether I succeeded or not is all up to interpretation. :D


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definition:  
> Gestalt - noun (German)  
> 1: (Literally) Form or shape.  
> 2: Something greater than the sum of its parts.
> 
> (I'm not 100% on German pronunciation, but I think the S should be a SH sound. Don't hold me to that.)

> _"Good and evil are so close as to be chained together in the soul."_

\- The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Robert Louis Stevenson

* * *

They made two stops on their back. The first was at Charlie's house, where The Doctor collected a breezy looking Graham and a disgruntled Ryan.

"Remind me," he said to The Doctor as he handed the baby over to April, "never to have kids."

Graham smirked. "Don't blame her, mate. You're the one who held her like a bag of flour."

"How am I supposed to know how to deal with an alien baby?" Ryan asked, more than a little annoyed.

"I think you ought to know a little," The Doctor said with a smirk of her own. "You did deliver one once."

Charlie looked at April, both their expressions dumbfounded.

"She's alright, though? Isn't she?" April asked, taking a cautious look at the baby.

"Good as gold." Graham beamed, exchanging a knowing look with Ryan.

"For you, maybe," Ryan muttered.

Their second stop was just a short walk away from the school, right at the rendezvous point they had already agreed with Yaz and Quill. Charlie couldn't help but notice how empty the streets were. By now, there ought to have been students all over the place, Sixth Formers leaving for their lunch break. It was still a Friday, after all. But there was no one. Even the commuters seemed to be avoiding the place, like they all knew what had happened there.

None of them spoke much on the way there. Even when Yaz and Quill arrived - Yaz breathless and flustered, Quill collected and stoic as ever - the words exchanged were brief and vague. Charlie didn't hear much of it, only that their destination was now a small, independent coffee shop on the other side of the district, somewhere he'd never even heard of before. He didn't need to hear anyone say it to know what had happened. Another killing. He didn't even feel surprised anymore. The past few days had left him completely numb, bleeding every emotion out of him. Like leeches clinging to his limbs and draining him dry.

"How many?" He asked, his voice hollow.

"No idea," Yaz said. "It only happened a few hours ago. They're saying the whole street's been blocked off. From what we heard, it was less of an attack, more a building collapse."

No more words were spoken. The Doctor brought them to their destination, eyes fixed on the console. When they arrived, she went straight for the doors, not even stopping to check the others were keeping pace. Charlie followed, his nerves humming with a mixture of anticipation and dread. When the doors swung open, they were greeted by darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. They must have time travelled again, whether forwards or backwards, he couldn't tell. Either way, the place seemed deserted. They had landed in what appeared to be a staff room, one that showed no obvious signs of disturbance. Either it had somehow remained untouched, or the slaughter had not yet begun. The Doctor stepped out, moving gingerly in the darkness until she appeared to find the light switch.

"No bloody sonic." She muttered, seemingly to herself.

The lights flickered on and the room came fully into view. It was a small back room, decorated in some fancy, artisanal fashion. It couldn't have hosted more than two or three people without becoming cramped, but there was a charm to it nonetheless.

The Doctor turned to the rest of the group, most of whom hadn't even left the TARDIS. "Move carefully." She said, speaking in hushed tones.

"When are we?" Charlie whispered back, the question sounding strange to him.

"Sometime last night." The Doctor said. "The only reason he would attack somewhere like this is if he wanted our attention. If we went forward, chances are he'd be waiting for us."

"What about alarms?" April asked, looking around with wary eyes.

"Disabled." The Doctor said. "Automatic thing."

"So we're just looking around?" Ryan asked, confusion in his eyes.

"What, bringing the baby with us?" Graham almost laughed in disbelief. "You're joking, right?"

The Doctor gave a small sigh. "Alright. Leave her here. But you stay with her. Quill too."

Quill seemed to open her mouth to protest, but her eyes fell on her daughter, who was trying to grab a lock of April's hair. April looked at Graham and, after a moment's hesitation, handed the child over to him. The Doctor gave a satisfied nod, then made her way over to the door, the one that presumably led to the main shopfront. Charlie followed, not sure how to feel anymore. He heard the doors of the TARDIS close as the others filed out but paid it no mind as he watched The Doctor ease open the staffroom door. 

The other side was dark, but a different dark to the one they had seen moments ago. This was a natural dark, punctuated by the light of streetlamps and the soft glow of the moon that slipped in from beneath the blinds covering the windows. It was a manageable dark, one that Charlie could easily find his way around. But he knew what kind of things could lurk in the dark. The kind of monsters that thrived in shadows. Without even thinking, he moved to the closest wall and pressed his back to it. Nothing would catch him unaware.

The room was small enough to be cosy, but big enough to seat its fair share of customers. There were no places to hide in a room like this. No secluded corners, no hidden alcoves. Only the counter and the bathroom offered any kind of cover. The Doctor went to the first, peering around with as much caution as she could. Ryan took the second, gently pushing the door and poking his head inside. Both of them gave the all-clear, and a wave of relief seemed to pass over the room.

"Is this all you found?" The Doctor asked Yaz. Her voice was still low and quiet, a tone that felt almost instinctive to all of them. 

Yaz shook her head. "There's...well, there's a lot."

"We know about the school," April said, "and about his parents' house. What else is there?"

"The house is a bit complicated," Yaz said. "They've been trying to keep this out of the news, but word must have got out somehow."

"Keep what out?" Charlie asked. All the while, his eyes scanned the room the others were searching. There was something in him, a voice deep inside of him, screaming at him to run. There was something about the place he didn't like. A presence in the air. A chill he couldn't shake.

"There was a call," Yaz explained. "A call about the fire. They sent a team out to deal with it...but none of them came back."

The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

"When the next lot got there, they found them just...lying there. All of them in some kind of coma. Like they'd just been shut down."

Even in the midnight gloom, Charlie could see The Doctor's expression darken. "Of course." She muttered, turning away. Her posture tensed, like her body was preparing its defences. Something told Charlie she didn't want to be disturbed.

"How did you find all this?" He asked, turning Yaz.

"I'm a police officer," Yaz said in reply. "Finding out stuff like this is my job."

He wanted to go on, to ask more questions, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door slamming open. All eyes turned to face the entrance, falling on the figure that stood in the doorway. The darkness obscured its face, but Charlie knew who it was without even having to look. There was only one person it could be.

The thing in Matteusz's body took two slow, measured steps inside. The door swung closed with a slow, soft creak, while the snapping of fingers brought the lights flickering to life. Charlie found himself looking once again into those cold, clouded eyes, and the pallid face stained on one side with blood the colour of ink. He couldn't bring himself to move. His body had frozen in place. The others seemed just as horrified, none of them even so much as blinking as it stared them all down.

"Clever." It said after a moment. It hadn't even bothered to make its voice sound human anymore. Instead, all its other voices blended together, speaking freely as one. "You think you can avoid me, coming here before I do." A smile spread across its dry lips. "But I'm clever too."

The Doctor seemed suddenly to find her voice. "Whatever you're here to do," she said, moving to the centre of the room, "it doesn't have to happen."

"But it does," It said, a hint of amusement in its voice. "Now that you've come here, I have to kill all those people or you'll never come here to begin with. You know the rules."

The Doctor scowled. "You knew, didn't you. You knew I'd do this."

It nodded, slowly and with intent. "You're predictable."

"Well, everyone's predictable to a mind-reader." The Doctor said, not altering her stance.

It seemed to consider that. Its gaze faltered for the briefest of moments, landing straight on Charlie. With a wave of its hand, The Doctor flew sideways, colliding with the stacked tables and chairs. The sudden noise brought the rest of the room to life. Ryan went into action, grabbing one of the chairs and brandishing it before him. Yaz went straight to The Doctor, moving along the walls so as to keep out of the monster’s way. April moved backwards, towards where Charlie stood frozen in place. His breath had left him. His heart was in his mouth. Fear ran through him like a drug, seizing him up and shutting him down.

Ryan was edging closer, still holding the chair as if it was some kind of weapon. “If you want to kill The Doctor, you have to go through me first!”

“And me,” Yaz said, rushing to Ryan’s side. “We’ve saved the world before. We’re not afraid of you.”

It took one, long look at them. At the chair in Ryan’s hands. At Yaz’s clenched fists. “You’re in my way.” It said, before turning its eyes back on Charlie. Again, that feeling of dread began to flood Charlie’s entire body. For some reason, one he couldn’t even begin to understand, it wanted him.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, “and we’re gonna stay there.”

“No,” It said, seeming almost to sigh in frustration. “You’re not.”

It raised a hand, eyes fixed intently on Ryan and Yaz. All at once, they stiffened, the chair falling uselessly to the floor. Their faces went slack, their eyes seeming to glaze over. Yaz made a quiet whimpering sound, like she was trying to cry out in pain. But she never managed it. Their bodies relaxed as both of them fell to the floor, limp and unmoving.

Charlie had to cover his mouth to hold back his scream. He watched as The Doctor cried out and ran to where Ryan and Yaz lay, ignoring her bruises and scratches.

“Stay.” It said, holding a hand towards her and forcing her back.

“What did you do?” The Doctor demanded, glaring as she tried to shake off Its hold.

The smile returned, mocking and cruel. “I switched them off.” 

The Doctor tried one more time, making a lunge towards her friends. Charlie waited for the moment of attack, for his hopes to be crushed forever as The Doctor fell. But it never happened. Instead, a sharp gesture seemed to shake the very ground they stood on. The walls began to splinter as great, vein-like cracks ran up across their surface. On instinct, Charlie forced himself off the wall, pulling April with him and staring as the place he had just been resting fractured before him. All the while, it watched with those blank, white eyes.

“Is this how it happened for you?” It asked, looking at the walls. “Is this what you were trying to stop? Do I crush them all to death, all those people you wanted to save? Or do I kill them with my own hands?”

The Doctor’s face burned with anger. “Bring them back.” She demanded, her voice so low it was almost frightening.

It ignored her words, turning once again to where Charlie stood. This time, its eyes seemed to watch April too. “Leave,” It said, curt and sharp. “And stay out of my way.”

Charlie blinked. He wanted to turn and run to the TARDIS as fast as he could, but his body refused his commands. All he could do was watch as the creature looked to The Doctor.

“This is your warning,” It said. “There won’t be another.”

The Doctor stumbled forward, released from its hold. She crouched by the fallen bodies of Ryan and Yaz. “Help me move them.” She said, her voice shaking and frantic.

April didn’t hesitate. She ran to The Doctor, helping her lift Yaz’s limp body. Charlie couldn’t bring himself to do the same. 

“Is that it?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’re just going to run away?”

“We don’t have a choice.” The Doctor said, not even turning to look at him.

Charlie fixed his gaze on the thing that had once been his boyfriend. “I won’t let you take him from me.” He said, his words brimming with anger.

Its expression turned even colder. “You should have said this before,” It said. “When you still had the chance.”

Charlie didn’t listen. He refused to let those words get to him anymore. “I know he’s still there,” He said, the words burning as though they were alight. “I don’t care what anyone else says. I won’t stop until I save him.”

He waited for the response. For the cutting words that would shatter his hope completely, but they never came. Instead, it watched him, emotionless. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, when he was sure there would be no more attacks, he went over to The Doctor and April. The Doctor took Yaz in her arms while Charlie and April tried their best to carry Ryan between them. With slow, awkward steps, they made their way back to the staffroom door. It felt wrong, retreating like this with their heads hung low, but Charlie had to accept that there was no other option. It was letting them go. There wouldn’t be a chance like this again. Before they were out of sight completely, he turned, taking one last look at the thing standing in the centre of the room. It still watched him, following every move with those empty eyes. He thought about saying something, anything to give their exit some meaning. But no words came to him. The door swung closed behind them, leaving them alone. Defeated and distraught.

* * *

“What did he do to them?” Graham asked.

They had taken Ryan and Yaz to another one of the guest rooms deep within the ship’s interior. Few words had been spoken in that time, only brief dismissals of any questions from Graham or Quill. Now, the five of them stood around the TARDIS console, trying their best to recover.

The Doctor gave a long, deep sigh. "Same thing he did during the fire. Forced them into some kind of comatose state. Like shutting off their minds."

Graham lowered his head, blinking back tears. He still held Quill's daughter, and the thought of losing his grandson seemed to make him hold her a little closer.

"They're not dead." The Doctor went on, as if trying to reassure him. "We can still save them."

Graham nodded but didn't say another word. Charlie couldn't bring himself to look at the man's grief-stricken face for any longer. Instead, he turned to The Doctor, hoping anger might burn away the despair that threatened to consume him.

"No more secrets." He said, in a voice so sharp it might have been made of glass. "You tell us everything and you tell us now."

He expected resistance, expected some kind of fight from The Doctor, but instead, she lowered her gaze. 

"Ok," She said, her tone quiet, submissive. "But you won't like it."

Charlie didn't care. He'd waited long enough. Now they deserved the truth more than ever. "Just tell us." He said, the words slow and deliberate. "What is it that's taken him?"

The Doctor took a step back from the console. "It's called a Gestalt entity. A being created from the amalgamation of different consciousnesses."

"Which means what, exactly?" Charlie asked. He was in no mood for obscure terminology. He wanted a straight answer, no more dodging of the question.

The Doctor sighed. "It's a combination of different minds, all connected as one being." She took a long look at the rest of the group, avoiding Charlie's gaze. "They're powerful, sometimes more so than anything else we've known, but they have no form of their own. So, they evolved to possess host bodies."

Charlie was beginning to understand. It was as if all the information, all the thoughts he had been contending with over the past two days, began to rearrange themselves before him.

"You've seen them before?" April asked, so softly the words barely registered.

The Doctor shook her head. "Not in person. There are only a few dozen that even exist, and even then they don't start appearing until the 23rd century. Most of the time they don't last long enough between hosts. But the ones that do…" She trailed off. The meaning of her words was clear. Charlie had seen that kind of power firsthand when the glass whirlwind had nearly killed his friends.

"So the whole telekinesis thing is normal for them?" Quill asked, though with more certainty in her tone than April.

The Doctor nodded. "Telekinesis. Telepathy. Some can even change their host's body chemistry."

An image flashed through Charlie's mind. Of the book he had seen in his dream. The grey, lurking Devil with its gaunt limbs and blind eyes. "Why?" He asked, only half aware that he spoke the question aloud.

"Power." The Doctor said, simply. "When they take a host body, they have to break down the mind first. Weaken the defences." She looked back to the console, pausing to take a deep, calming breath. "They torment their hosts, find weaknesses and exploit them. They amplify emotions - anger, fear, paranoia, self-hatred - drive the host to the edge and then…"

"Take over." April finished in a quiet, horrified voice.

The Doctor nodded again. "The more hosts they find, the more consciousnesses they add to their number, and the more powerful they become."

The room fell into a brief silence. None of them seemed to know how to process the information they'd been given. How to make sense of all they knew. In a way, Charlie felt as if he hadn't heard anything new. As if, somehow, he'd always known.

"So we make it leave him." He said, a sudden sense of determination filling him. He knew the feeling well by now and knew just as well that it would soon wither away. "We force it out of his body."

"That's not how it works." The Doctor said, firm and immovable as stone.

"Why not?" Charlie demanded, the red haze beginning to cloud him once again. "It worked for April."

"That was different." The Doctor cut back, raising her voice to match his own.

"How? How was it different? Why do we get to save one life, but not another?" 

"Because Matteusz is gone!" The Doctor screamed in a sudden burst of fury. Everyone fell silent. April stared, wide-eyed and mouth agape. Graham averted his gaze, staring intently at the wall. Quill's eyes turned hard and cold. Even Charlie faltered in his advance.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice suddenly hollow.

The Doctor took another long, calming breath. "I told you. A Gestalt is a collective consciousness. Like a hive mind all in one being. It doesn't just overwhelm its victims' minds…" She paused, as if considering how to go on. "It takes them with it. Adding them to itself. Becoming more than the sum of its parts."

"So that means…" April said, her voice failing before she could finish.

The Doctor looked Charlie straight in the eye. "That thing is part of Matteusz now. We can't remove one without destroying them both."

Charlie felt all his breath leave him. All this time, he had dreaded it would come to this. He had known The Doctor had given up hope, yet he never expected the truth to cut so deep. It seemed worse in reality than it ever had in his mind. His knees felt weak, like any moment they would give way and he would fall. Down into the murky depths, where emptiness would smother him.

"You knew? The whole time?" Quill asked, breaking the silence that had needled its way into their heads.

"As soon as I saw what he did to you." The Doctor replied. As if on instinct, Quill brought her bound arm closer to her. The baby in Graham's arms started to wail, the first cries Charlie had heard from her in a long time.

"Why didn't you say anything?" April asked, though Charlie could tell she already knew.

"Because I was looking for the right way to explain." The Doctor said. "To make it less painful. But the truth is, we were just too late. If we got to him sooner, we might have found a way."

If they'd gotten to him sooner. The thought stung like a tangle of thorns crushing him from the inside. This was it. It was all over. He'd lost the person who had loved him most in the world, the person who had tried to find him when no one else would. All for pathetic, miserable self-pity. The Doctor had told him only that morning.

_ "You wouldn't want to know." _

And she'd been right.

"There might be one small hope." The Doctor said, looking Charlie right in the eye. "If what you said about your dream is true, if it is Matteusz reaching out and not some kind of trick, then we might be able to do something."

"Like what?" Charlie asked, unable to bring himself to meet her gaze.

There was a pause before The Doctor gave an answer. "We might be able to salvage what's left of his mind. Recover his consciousness and repress the Gestalt as best we can." She sighed. "But even then we only solve half the problem. No matter what we do, that thing will be in his head for the rest of his life. He won't be the same person you knew before. And there's no guarantee the Gestalt won't just resurface. It could take him over at any time, and then we've put the whole world in danger again." 

"So what are you saying?" Charlie asked, his voice empty.

The Doctor shook her head. "I don't know." She said. "All I know is we have a choice. Either we deal with this now, lose Matteusz but save the world, or we try to bring him back. See what happens from there."

Charlie considered the options. Neither one seemed like any kind of salvation. The miracle he had hoped for had failed him, and he found himself left to pick up the pieces. Like the glass from his shattered windows.

"Let me talk to him." He said, the words coming fast and sudden. "If I dream again, he can find me. We can work something out."

"You want us to just go home?" Quill asked, dubiously.

"Maybe we could do it here?" Graham suggested, his eyes still brimming with that repressed grief.

The Doctor looked between them. "I might be able to get some kind of neural blocker. Induce a sleep state. But we're going on the assumption that this is a genuine connection."

"It is," Charlie said immediately. "Why else do you think any of us are still alive? Matteusz is holding on somehow. I just need to get to him." 

It was hope. A tiny speck of light in the seemingly endless darkness. Any chance, no matter how small, he had to take. He didn't want to let himself think of the alternative. The idea that, if they failed, this might be the last time he ever spoke to his boyfriend. He had to hold on to that hope. Without it, he had nothing.

The Doctor closed her eyes. She seemed to hold her breath, lost so deep in thought that normal functions seemed unnecessary. For a moment, Charlie thought she might stay that way, that they had lost her as well. But after what felt like an eternity, her eyes opened.

"Alright." She said. "We'll try it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concept of a Gestalt entity was loosely based on the Red Dwarf episode "Legion" (S6, E2). A bloody great show and well worth checking out if you like a little comedy with your Sci-Fi. Netflix has it if you're curious. My favourite show possibly ever.
> 
> I've never written the whole "explanation of an alien species" thing before so this whole chapter might just suck. Feel free to call me out if something doesn't make sense. Criticism helps us grow, y'all.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Mentions and depictions of self-harm.

> _" I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe._
> 
> _ If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other." _

\- Frankenstein, Mary Shelley

* * *

_ He didn’t remember falling asleep. He didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten here. All he knew was that he had to keep going. A life hung in the balance, all dependent on him finding what he was looking for. Finding that glimmer of hope amongst a void of nothing. _

_ He was standing in a classroom. The same one they had been trapped in all that time ago. It was a vision, he knew. A memory from someone else’s mind. He had to see it through if he wanted to find the answers he needed. He waited for the scene to fully come to life, for the faces of his friends to appear. Instead, he only saw Matteusz, standing by the desk with the rock in his hands. He was speaking, those same words that had come before his confession. _

_ “Tell me the truth.” _

_ They echoed across the classroom, like the walls that surrounded them weren’t even there. Like he was speaking to nothing and no one. Charlie didn’t understand. This wasn’t the memory he’d expected. The others were missing. They should have been here. He had seen others before, in the visions with Matteusz’s parents. Why now were they alone? _

_ Those questions were banished from his mind as the confession began. Charlie waited for the words, the admission of fear, the guilt shook that once strong voice. He waited to feel the emptiness creep through him, the shock, the frustration, all as it had been in reality. But it never came. _

_ “I hate you.” The vision of Matteusz said. “All of you.” _

_ Charlie blinked, unsure of how to react. He looked around, expecting images of the others to appear before him. But they never did. The vision spoke as if all was normal, as if the others were around him, watching as they had been before. But they were still alone. The two of them, trapped together. _

_ “You’re selfish,” Matteusz continued, “You’re cruel. You look at me like I’m nothing. Like I’m dirt.” _

_ “This isn’t right.” Charlie found himself saying. “This isn’t how it happened.” _

_ Matteusz didn’t even seem to notice. He continued as if nothing had changed. “You think it’s alright to ignore me because I’m not really part of your group. You think I don’t deserve to be here. You think I haven’t seen as much as you. That I’ll never understand.” _

_ “Stop.” Charlie cried out. “This is all wrong. Stop it. Show me something else.” _

_ As the scene unfolded, the lights in the ceiling began to dim, slowly shrouding the room in shadow. The doors and windows faded away, leaving the walls blank and impenetrable. _

_ The vision of Matteusz still spoke, his eyes brimming with tears just as they had done that first time. “But I do understand. I’ve lost things just like you have. I know pain and fear. I know hatred.” _

_ The lights flickered off, plunging the room into darkness. When they came back on, Matteusz’s jacket had vanished. His arms were bloody, covered in slashes and cuts that spilt blood across his skin. It ran between his fingers, dripping onto the rock he still held so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Some of the marks were small, tiny things the size of papercuts, but others ran longer, deeper. The blood that fell from them flowed like a red river, trickling into a pool that began to form on the floor. There was blood on his shoulders too, seeping through the fabric of his t-shirt. _

_ “Because I hate myself most of all,” Matteusz said, like he wasn’t even aware of the horror unfolding before him. _

_ “No.” Charlie tried to scream, but his throat was too hoarse for anything more than a gasp. “I don’t want to see this.” _

_ “I hate myself more than I’ve ever hated anyone else,” Matteusz said. “More than any of you. More than my parents. Because it all was my fault. I was the one who was never good enough. I was worthless. Pathetic. Childish.” _

_ Charlie buried his head in his hands, screwing his eyes shut. He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t cry out. His words had been stolen from him. He waited for the terror to subside. For the buzz of the flickering lights to slowly fade into nothing. He didn’t understand. This wasn’t a memory. It couldn’t be. None of this had really happened. It was a nightmare, some awful dream that had crept out of the depths of his subconscious to torture him. But his dreams had never been like this. His nightmares were always of Rhodia, of the night the Shadow-Kin invaded. In sleep, he saw his mother dying again and again before his eyes. Saw Quill fighting to save them. He had never seen anything like this before. _

_ When he opened his eyes, the scene had changed. Matteusz still stood there, holding the rock in his hands, but his clothes had changed. Now, he wore the dark jacket and t-shirt he had worn the day the Shadow-Kin came back. The day April had almost died. The room had changed too. They were standing in the hall, just by the entrance, with the Cabinet of Souls on the stage far ahead of them. Now, the vision of Matteusz looked directly at him, staring at him with sad, cold eyes. _

_ “I should have been the one to die that day.” He said, as the rock crumbled to dust between his fingers. _

_ Charlie looked around, searching for any sign of the others. Of Tanya or Quill. Of April. Even Ram. But, once again, they were alone. He knew what would happen next. He remembered the day so vividly, it might have been permanently etched into his subconscious. From out of the shadows, lurking behind them, Corakinus appeared, brandishing his weapon and holding it to Matteusz’s neck. Charlie waited for the rest of the scene to unfold. To hear his own words as he fought to keep himself from using the Cabinet. But the words never came. Instead, it was Matteusz who spoke. Speaking to him, and him alone. _

_ “What would you have done?” He asked. “Would anything change?” _

_ Charlie was breathless. “What are you talking about? Of course it would. I’d lose you.” _

_ “But you already have,” Matteusz said. “Only now the world is in danger. Wouldn’t it be better to let me die here? Then you will never know any different.” _

_ “No,” Charlie said, his heart pounding. “I won’t let that happen.” _

_ “Why?” Matteusz asked. “You didn’t care that I survived. You didn’t even speak to me. I might as well have been dead.” _

_ He tried to fight back, but his words were cut off. “That’s not-”  _

_ “Was it the thought of me you liked? Did you like knowing that I would always be there for you? Doing whatever you asked, like a good little subject. All for my noble prince. Was it that you didn’t want to lose?” _

_ “Why are you saying all this?” Charlie asked in desperation. “This isn’t like you.” _

_ Then, for a moment, Charlie saw it. He saw the smile that spread across Matteusz’s face. Saw the coldness that crept into his expression. And, for the briefest of moments, he saw Matteusz’s eyes cloud over, the colour draining from his skin. _

_ “No!” Charlie cried out, reaching out with a desperate hand, but by the time he had, the change was gone. It was Matteusz that stood there, scared and alone, as Corakinus drew the blade across his throat.  _

_ Charlie screamed, but the room vanished before Matteusz could even fall to the floor. _

_ By the time he’d regained his bearings, Charlie found himself in a classroom again. Different to the one they’d spent detention in, one Charlie had never seen before. Matteusz sat at one of the desks, headphones in, working on some kind of assignment. Charlie didn’t know what he was looking at. This wasn’t anything like a memory he knew. He didn’t understand why he was seeing this now. _

_ “You think you know him.” _

_ Charlie blinked, turning frantically in all directions to find where the voices had come from. There were no other people in the room, no obvious answer. But, somehow, Charlie knew those voices. He had heard them before, speaking in that cruel, icy whisper. Then it came to him. He’d heard them in the hall. In the coffee shop. The voices of the Gestalt. _

_ “You think he’s innocent. A helpless victim. You think we stole him from you.” _

_ Charlie took a deep breath, fighting every instinct that told him to run. “What do you want?” He asked. He didn’t understand how it could appear to him in a dream, but he forced all concerns aside, _

_ The voices spoke only one word in reply. “Watch.” _

_ Charlie did as he was told. He turned to the desk where Matteusz worked. For the first time, he had no idea what might be about to happen. He watched as Matteusz wrote equations in his neat, delicate handwriting, gently tapping his foot to the rhythm of his music. Then, in the empty space behind the chair, Charlie saw the rift begin to open. It happened slowly, a tiny sliver of light breaking through the air around them, splitting and cracking as the tear widened. Matteusz continued on oblivious, he eyes focussed on the sheet in front of him. Charlie wanted to cry out a warning, but his words had been stolen from him again. It was as if he was nothing. A ghost, imperceptible to the human eye. _

_ The rift widened, growing until the light began to spill out from within. Now Matteusz noticed. He turned, eyes locking on the glowing white light. He stood so quickly that the chair clattered to the floor. He didn’t even hesitate as he tore the headphones from his ears and raced for the door, leaving his things abandoned by the desk. He was at the door before the rift had even reached where he’d been sitting. Charlie felt a wash of relief. It was going to be ok. He was going to escape. But something, a nagging voice in the back of his mind, told him otherwise. This must have been the day the Gestalt had taken him, and no matter how far he ran, it would catch up. _

_ Charlie waited for it to happen, for the moment of attack. For the ambush that left Matteusz trapped. He watched as Matteusz opened the door, almost made a break for the corridor. But, before he ran, he turned back. Charlie wanted to scream, to tell him to run, but no words would come. Instead, Matteusz watched the rift, waiting to see what emerged. His hand still held the door open, ready to run at any moment. But the rift only split further, the light spilling out until it was almost blinding. Matteusz seemed almost to relax, his frantic breathing slowing. He watched the light, watched it creep towards him in constant advance. Then, to Charlie’s horror, he closed the door. He dropped his hands to his sides and stood there, watching as the light split out into tendrils. Then, finally, something crept from the rift. Charlie couldn’t see it - it had no shape of its own - but he felt it. The room grew cold. The light seemed to dim and the colours darken as he felt its presence. Matteusz seemed to notice too, shivering where he stood, but still making no attempt to run. The light from the rift followed the thing as it advanced, lending itself to give the creature form. Now, it was a mass of glowing light, sneaking its way towards where Matteusz stood. Its tendrils wrapped around him, forcing him against the closed door. They snaked around his limbs, creeping upwards, forcing his head back. Now, the fight seemed to come back to him. He tried to free himself from its grip, yet never trying to open the door. Then, as quickly as the light had appeared, it vanished. It seemed to fade inwards, like it was creeping under Matteusz’s skin, drifting inside of him. He gave a final gasp for air before he collapsed, still and lifeless, to the floor. _

_ “He chose us.” The voice said as it faded into nothing. _

_ Charlie felt lost for words. He refused to believe what he had just seen. There was no way Matteusz would have let that thing take him. It had to be a lie. A cruel trick to make him lose all hope. But before he could even begin to consider other possibilities, the scene slipped away into nothing. _

* * *

_ He was back in the white room. The same one he had found before. Only this time, the empty walls seemed smaller. Like the space within them was constricting. _

_ “You came back.” _

_ Charlie turned, found Matteusz standing before him. Not a vision anymore. The real thing, or what was left of him. Charlie took a step closer, almost reaching his hand out, before recoiling in sudden uncertainty. _

_ Matteusz’s face fell. “You think I might be Him, don’t you?” _

_ “I know you’re not,” Charlie said without thinking. “I already saw it...I mean Him. He showed me those…” _

_ “The nightmares.” Matteusz finished. _

_ Charlie nodded. "Was that..." He could hardly bring himself to speak. "The classroom. When the rift opened. Was that real? Did you just let it happen?" _

_ For a moment, Matteusz didn't answer. When he did, his voice was quiet, uncertain. "I don't know."  _

_ Charlie sighed. It was the answer he'd expected, but it didn't make it any less frustrating. He knew it would stay with him now, lingering in the back of his mind. _

_ “The others don’t believe me." He said, trying to change the subject. "They think this is all a trick. But I know better. I know it’s really you.” _

_ “But it isn’t,” Matteusz said. “Not completely.” _

_ Charlie frowned. “What are you saying?” _

_ Matteusz looked to the walls. “There is no me anymore. The Doctor told you that.” _

_ “How do you know about that?” Charlie asked, trying to fight back the wave of hopelessness that threatened to wash over him. _

_ “I’m in your head, remember,” Matteusz said. “And you’re in mine.” _

_ Charlie sighed. He felt as if he was losing. Losing what, he wasn’t sure. But losing something. “So...He knows I’m here? He read my mind and tried to frighten me?” He asked. _

_ Matteusz shook his head. “I don’t think so.” Every word he spoke seemed hollow, only half there. “But I don’t know for certain. All I know is what’s here.” _

_ Charlie found himself moving closer to Matteusz, taking his hand as if he might somehow disappear. “So you’re really gone? Even you think so.” _

_ “No,” Matteusz said, a little warmth returning to his smile. “You do.” _

_ Charlie blinked, confusion overwhelming his sadness. “I don’t...I don’t understand.” _

_ “You know none of this is real,” Matteusz said. “I can only tell you what you really think. And maybe the things you don’t even know you’re thinking.” _

_ Charlie didn’t answer, too lost to give any kind of coherent response. Instead, he let Matteusz continue. _

_ “I’m trying to reach out to you,” Matteusz said. “Trying to let you know I’m here. But this is only how your mind chooses to see it.” _

_ Charlie seemed to catch on. “So...the Gestalt doesn’t know about any of this?” He asked. _

_ “I don’t know,” Matteusz said with a slight shrug. “But now you think He doesn’t.” _

_ Charlie let go of Matteusz’s hand. Everything felt different somehow. Like something, somewhere, had changed. He just couldn’t figure out what. _

_ “It wasn’t like this last time.” He said, trying to find some kind of explanation. _

_ Matteusz smiled again. “Because now you know more. Last time, you were hoping you could save me. You were still blaming yourself. You thought I would hate you. Now, you know different.” _

_ “And you,” Charlie said, slowly beginning to understand, “last time, you were showing me what I felt. Now you’re showing me what I know?” He phrased the words more as a question, still not entirely certain. _

_ Matteusz nodded. “You have an idea now. Those things The Doctor said, that there might be a chance, you believe them. And you’ve decided you’re going to make her do it. _

_ For some reason Charlie couldn’t understand, he felt almost disappointed. This felt too easy. Like all the answers had just been handed to him. _

_ “Aren’t you going to argue with me? Ask me if it’s the right thing to do?” He wanted that more than anything. He wanted to be challenged. He wanted to earn his answers. _

_ “The real me would,” Matteusz admitted. “The real me would ask these moral questions. But I can’t. I can’t because you’re not arguing with yourself.” He put a comforting hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “All these questions you have, deep down they don’t matter to you. What matters to you is bringing me back.” _

_ “No matter the cost.” Charlie finished. He had said those words so many times. How could he abandon them now? _

_ “And you won’t hate me for it?” He asked. “The real you? After everything I’ve done?” _

_ “You’ll have that talk later,” Matteusz said. “But you know, or you think you know, that I’d never want to hate you.” _

_ Charlie remembered the nightmare. “You said you did.” His voice shook as he spoke. _

_ Matteusz shook his head. “Never like that. That was all Him. The Doctor told you that.” _

_ Charlie knew it was true. A Gestalt amplified negative emotions, preyed on weaknesses. That was what The Doctor had said. He looked up one last time, meeting Matteusz’s gaze. “Will it work?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper. _

_ Matteusz didn’t answer for the longest time. When he did, there was doubt in his words. “There’s no way to tell.” _

_ Charlie wanted to cry. For the first time since all of this had begun, he felt he had hope. It was tangible now, within reach. All he had to do was take it. No more questions, no more debate. He had to be brave. He had to be the one to act. And then, when it was over, he would pick up the pieces. He would do whatever it took to make it right. Even if what The Doctor said was true. Even if things would never be normal again, he had to try.  _

_ He leaned closer, pulling Matteusz towards him until their bodies touched. He raised his head and kissed him as if all the world depended on it. It was nothing like a normal kiss. There was no spark, no sudden feeling of breathlessness or rush of excitement. His heart didn’t pound in his chest. His mind didn’t swim. Instead, it was quite the opposite. The world, this surreal dream-state he had fallen into, seemed to settle into place. Everything felt calm. Time slowed to a stop. The only feeling that mattered was the feeling of their lips meeting. The feeling of Matteusz’s hands wrapped around him, holding him close. The feeling of his own hands in Matteusz’s hair. For the first time in weeks, everything felt right. Everything felt real. _

_ He broke off, keeping them close. “I love you.” He said, a single tear spilling down his cheek. “More than anything.” _

_ Matteusz smiled. “I love you too. Always.” _

_ They let the moment hang for a while. Let the dream feel real. And then they kissed again. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going surreal again. Hopefully, now we can get to the less depressing parts of the story. Just so I can prove I am capable of writing something happy.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the endgame now, folks.

> _ “Look like the innocent flower, _
> 
> _ But be the serpent under it.” _

\- Macbeth, William Shakespeare

* * *

When Charlie woke, he expected to find the others waiting for him. Instead, he found himself alone, lying on the same bed he had been in before. He sat up, moving slowly as the dream began to make itself clear in his mind. He felt something pressed against his temple and, when he brought his hand to it, it peeled off like a sticker. It was a small, square-shaped patch, no bigger than a coin. At best guess, it was the neural blocker The Doctor had mentioned earlier. He didn't remember her putting it on him, or being taken to this room, but that didn't much matter to him now.

He looked around, scanning the room for any sign of a disturbance. His eyes fell on a chair in the corner, pulled up close to a small desk. April sat there, her head slumped over the desk, her shoulders rising and falling with her gentle breathing. Fast asleep. Charlie wondered how long she’d been waiting for him, and where the others might have gone. There only seemed to be two options. Either they were in the console room, or they were with Yaz and Ryan, watching over them. Charlie swung his legs over the bed, standing quietly so as not to wake April. He had a plan, an idea in his head that he needed to see through. But he couldn’t let the others see. There was no way they would let him do what he needed to do. Moving quietly, checking all the time that no one had seen him, he slipped out of the room and into the corridor.

The console room was empty too. The soft yellow and blue glow that washed over the room seemed colder now. Hollow without the others around. He didn't let himself worry about it for too long. He crossed the room as if he was expecting someone to reach out and grab him at any moment. He couldn't be found here. The others would ask too many questions. Questions he could never answer. He didn’t know which of the many switches on the console would open the doors. He had a vague memory of The Doctor clicking her - or maybe it had been ‘his’ - fingers, and the doors swinging open on command. He had no idea how it had even worked, or whether it would work for him, but it was a better chance than testing all the buttons would allow him. He took a deep breath, still unsure why his heart was racing, and clicked. 

Barely a second passed before they opened. Outside, he saw the familiar interior of his living room as the midday sun streamed in through the windows. The Doctor must have taken them back while he’d been sleeping, he supposed. And, by the looks of things, taken them back to the present. He hurried outside, clicking his fingers again to shut the doors behind him. Now, all that was left to do was find what he wanted.

He went upstairs, every movement cautious. It was unlikely that the others were out here waiting for him. If they were, he imagined he would have seen them by now. But he couldn’t afford to be careless. He slipped into Quill’s room, silent as a stalking cat. It felt strange to him, skulking about like some kind of vagrant. It felt wrong somehow, the feeling sitting uneasily in his chest. But all that went away when his eyes fell on Quill’s bedside table. The gun. It lay there just as Charlie had hoped it would, placed with care and reverence. He took it, waiting for it to feel comfortable in his grip. From somewhere inside his pocket, he felt his phone buzz. The sudden noise made him cry out, dropping the gun back on the bed. He checked the phone, dreading a message from April or Quill asking where the hell he was. But it was nothing. A reminder to charge the battery. With a sigh of relief, he turned it off and dropped it on the table where the gun had been. He didn’t think they would go so far as to track his phone when they found him missing, but he couldn’t afford to take the risk. Taking up the gun again, he slipped back out of the room.

He didn’t stop to peer into his own bedroom, at the still broken windows and empty bed. He didn’t stop to check the kitchen, see if the others were waiting for him there. Instead, he slipped his shoes on at the door, grabbing the first jacket he could find. He put the gun into the left-hand pocket, ever-cautious, as if the thing might go off at any second. When he was sure he was ready, that he wasn’t being followed, he left the house without looking back.

* * *

He didn’t know where he was going. Instinct pulled him from one place to another. They were connected, him and the Gestalt. He had been given all the proof he needed in those dreams. As long as he wanted to find it, his intuition would take him where he needed to be. The dream hadn’t given him any new answers. He knew nothing now that he hadn’t known before he’d slept. But it had made him feel certain. Those horrors he tried to repress, the fear, the hopelessness, the dread, they would only win if he let them. He could spend hours standing around that console, arguing with The Doctor and Quill over what was right. But in the end, it would amount to nothing. There was a chance. A chance to make things better. Not perfect, not normal, not even close to being right. But if it was a choice between that and letting things stay as they were, then chance would win out every time.

First, Charlie had to know something. Ever since the Gestalt had ambushed them in the cafe, suspicion had been plaguing him, lingering in the back of his mind. He knew there was a connection, something that allowed Matteusz to reach out to him. But Charlie was beginning to think it was more than that. Something greater, something that he couldn’t understand. The only way to know for certain was to confront the Gestalt head-on. To find it before it found them. The thought made Charlie reach for the gun in his pocket. The last resort should things turn desperate. It was mad, he knew that much. Going after the Gestalt knowing what it had done to Tanya and Ram, to Ryan and Yaz. Which was why The Doctor couldn’t know. She would never agree to something like this. Her response would be what it always was. Stand around and talk. 

He must have walked for an hour. Perhaps more. He never stopped to look around, never took in the streets surrounding him. With no phone and no interest in what was going on around him, he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Or even how far he’d walked. There were some things he could guess about where he was. He assumed he was still in Shoreditch, though whether he was or not didn’t much matter. All he knew is that he’d never been down these streets before. Never even near them. It didn’t surprise him that the Gestalt had gone somewhere like this. Far enough away that it wouldn’t be found by chance. Close enough to find them whenever it wanted.

Soon enough, his instinct told him that he was close. He had found a residential street, one where each house stood detached, distinct from its neighbours. It was quiet here. A peaceful kind of quiet that told of a community at peace. But Charlie couldn’t shake the discomfort that settled deep within him. He walked on until he found the furthest house on the right side of the road. It was tall, grand-looking in its simplicity. Nothing like the houses Charlie had seen on the streets he knew. Perhaps he had left the district and found himself somewhere utterly unknown. The house’s gate stood open, but open in a way that seemed unnatural. They didn’t stand fully parallel as a driveway gate ought to. Instead, they stood diagonal, like they had been forced open by an uncaring hand and left to fall back into place. It was here. It had to be. With a cautious glance behind him, Charlie slipped through. From the driveway, he could see that all the curtains had been drawn and the windows closed, despite the surprising warmth of the day. The door was unlocked, opening as if it hadn’t been closed at all. For a moment, Charlie wondered if he might have been wrong. He could be walking into a stranger’s house with a gun in his pocket and no way of finding his way back. He didn’t know which idea appealed to him less. Whether he was wrong or right, neither option was good.

No sooner had he stepped over the threshold, than all his doubts were stripped away. A door to his right led the way to what must have been the living room, light shining through the small gap between door and floor. From beneath that gap, a small pool of blood had collected on the boundary, the space where one room became another. In a moment, his courage deserted him, leaving him standing there, mouth agape and eyes fixed on the door. He heard music, a muffled sound that drifted through the door. It was there. In that room. He didn’t even want to think about what it might have done. But he had to. He had to see it for himself. He had to know for sure. He crept towards the door, his hand once again closing around the handle of the gun. It felt comforting now, knowing it was there. No matter how much he wanted to avoid using it.

While his mind ran frantic, his body moved with effortless grace. Like it was refusing his mind's panicked rantings. He opened the door as if it was his own, like the room he was walking into was familiar to him. Like there wasn't a monster on the other side. 

At first, he didn't see it. All he saw was the corpse on the rug. A man no older than 30. His blood had fallen still by the threshold, leaving a dripping red mirror to reflect Charlie's horrified face. When he looked closer, Charlie saw the hole in the man's chest. The hole where a heart should have been. He might have bolted right there and then, made a break for the door and tried to find some way back home, if he hadn't heard the Gestalt begin to speak.

"There were two more," It said, its dozens of voices so loud they had all but drowned out Matteusz's. "A woman and a girl." 

Those eyes, the cold, dead eyes, met Charlie's, and it rose from the chair it had been resting in. "They weren't supposed to die. But they got in my way.

As it stood, Charlie noticed its right hand, coated with blood. Not the dull, black blood that still covered one side of its face. The vibrant red of human blood, still warm between its fingers. It seemed to notice Charlie's gaze lingering, as its smile widened, became cruel.

"You think I tore his heart out?" It said, every word deliberate. "No. Not like that. I didn't even touch him. I just wanted to see if I could do it."

The music had stopped by now, leaving the room empty and silent. Charlie looked back down at the body. The scene seemed to replay itself before him. He had seen it flaunt that kind of power before. To take a man's heart with its mind seemed almost like nothing.

"I've never held a human heart before." It said, as if in explanation. "I've never been a human before either." The smile grew brighter, almost playful. "They have strange thoughts."

"Aren't you going to kill me?" Charlie asked, his voice sharp and biting.

The Gestalt's smile faded. It watched him, grey and hollow, its features almost familiar. It gave no response, flicking its wrist and slamming the door shut.

"You heard me come in," Charlie said, ignoring the blatant threat.

The Gestalt tilted its head. "You're not very quiet."

Charlie didn't care. He felt as if his insides had turned to stone, his heart seizing up inside him and leaving only cold, stony thoughts.

"But you're surprised to see me," He said, never breaking eye contact. "You can hide it all you like, but I know. You had no idea I'd come here."

Again, no response. A slight flexing of its fingers and the picture frames mounting the wall shattered, leaving great ugly cracks across the photos inside. Charlie fought the urge to flinch. He was done being afraid.

“What’s stopping you?” He asked, standing as tall as he could. “I’m the only one willing to stand up to you. You could take me out right here and now.”

More silence. A silence that drew out the seconds and turned them into hours. Charlie didn’t care. He was more than happy to do the talking. His hand found his pocket, found the gun nestled within. He closed his fist tight around the grip, his hand shaking with the effort. With one swift motion, quick as a bolt of lightning, he drew, holding it out before him. He felt his breath leave him, tension seizing up his limbs while leaving his chest a hollow pit. But none of that mattered. What he saw made all his efforts worthwhile. It was momentary, so fast he might have missed it, but it was there. The look in the Gestalt’s eyes. A look of surprise.

Charlie couldn’t help it. He smiled. "So, that explains it, then," He said. He hadn't meant to speak the words aloud, but somehow they felt right to say. "You can't read my mind."

The Gestalt's expression was one of pure, unrestrained fury. Even with its blank, white eyes, every expression was clear, as if they were written on its skin.

Charlie held the gun firm. "He won't let you, will he? That part of him that's left, the one you can't overwhelm, it's stopping you from hurting me."

He took a step forward, moving away from the door and closer to the centre of the room. For one insane moment, he felt his finger tighten on the trigger. One false move, one twitch, and it would all be over.

"You won't kill me," The Gestalt said, its voices devoid of all feeling. "If you kill me, you lose him forever."

Charlie stopped his advance. "I know," He said. "But this gun can do more than just kill." He wasn't even sure if that was true. He didn't know if Quill was the type of person to have a 'stun' setting on her weapons.

For a moment, there was more silence, the two of them standing, staring at one another while time ceased to be.

"Why are you here?" The Gestalt asked. It felt strange to Charlie, being the one with the answers. The one in control. He felt his arm waver slightly, lowering the gun as he thought. 

"I had to know," He said, though the words seemed empty somehow. "All those things The Doctor said. About your kind, how they operate. I knew there had to be more."

The Gestalt seemed to take some amusement from his response. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No." Charlie wasn't even certain he'd spoken the word at all, but it rang through him like the peel of a funeral bell. The Gestalt couldn't read him. But did that even matter? His arm fell to his side, his gaze to the floor. After all this time, he still didn't know.

Before he had a chance to raise his head, he felt a sudden weight pressing down on his shoulders. Like the air had turned solid around him. It pushed him down, forcing him to one knee down on the bloodstained carpet. He tried to look up, but the force above his neck was so strong he feared his spine might shatter. 

"Have you ever bowed before, prince?" The voices asked. But something had changed in their tone. One voice had grown louder than the others. Matteusz's. "Have you ever begged? Or do you let others come begging to you?"

Just as he was going to respond, that same force yanked his head upright until he was staring the Gestalt right in the eye.

"You want to know more, do you?" It asked, its words biting with anger. "You want to know why all this is happening?"

Charlie felt the force give way, just enough that he could speak without crying out in pain. "Power," He managed, through gritted teeth. "That's what all your kind want."

A moment passed. No more than a second. Then the force grabbed him, flung him backwards. He felt his head collide with the floor, an impact that flooded his vision with white. As he stumbled, struggling to regain his bearings, he heard the voices speak again.

"Is that what your Doctor told you?" The words were quieter now. More measured. "Funny. You doubt her enough to come to find me here, yet you still repeat her words. Do you even have a mind for me to read? Or is it full of someone else's ideas."

The world began to right itself, his vision clearing. Charlie stood on shaking legs, using the wall to keep himself from falling. "Ok. You don't want to destroy the planet. Fine. Then what do you want?"

It seemed to consider that, taking slow, measured steps towards him. "Right now, I want this to end," There was a finality to its tone. A certainty that seemed almost out of place. "Neither one of us can kill the other. So all we do is talk. We say things we don't mean. We make threats we never carry out," As if to illustrate its point, it called the fallen gun into its outstretched palm. "How long does this go on for? Who breaks first?"

Charlie blinked. He didn't understand. There was something too calm about the words it spoke. Too measured. Like all the hostility had fled the room in an instant. He looked down to the body of the man who had owned this house. For a moment, Charlie wondered where his heart was now.

"So what are you saying?" He managed to ask.

The Gestalt looked at him, its face as blank as slate. "Tomorrow. We will find each other again. Back where everything started. And we will end it for good."

Charlie's frown deepened. Only a few minutes ago, it had been taunting him about murdering an entire family. And now it seemed almost civil. Like it was just as tired as he was.

It didn't speak another word, just threw the gun back to him with careless ease. Something deep inside him compelled him to just leave. To walk away and accept what he'd heard. He slipped back out through the front door onto the driveway, only now realising what might happen if he was spotted by a neighbour. It wouldn't look too good for him when they found the bodies of that family. He left with his head down, his mind racing. Tomorrow. Meeting one last time. Ending it for good. It was only after he had left the street far behind that an idea came to him. The Gestalt may have been greater than the sum of its parts, but those parts still made it what it was. Those dozens of minds it had stolen before now, they all merged together to form its being. And one mind, one voice, spoke louder than the others. The same voice that stopped the Gestalt reading Charlie's mind. The same one that wouldn't let it kill Ram and Tanya. Whether the Gestalt knew it or not, Matteusz's mind was starting to affect it. Its bloodthirst, its lust for power, they were being weakened by what was left of the boy Charlie loved. 

For the second time that day, Charlie smiled. They were going to win. And he knew exactly how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't already, all will be clear next chapter. The plan will come together.  
> Let's see if it turns out as good as I planned it.


	9. Nine

> _"We're not meant for happiness, you and I."_

\- Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier

* * *

"What the hell did you think you were doing!"

He'd expected this. Sneaking off alone with a gun to confront a dangerous alien life form hadn't been one of Charlie's most sensible ideas. When he'd arrived back home, after almost two hours trying to find his way, he'd come to find April taking care of the baby. A phone call later, and The Doctor, Quill and Graham were with her, beside themselves with anger.

Charlie didn't know how to respond. Even with a broken arm, Quill was a force to be reckoned with. 

"Have you lost your mind? You could've been killed wandering off like that!" She almost spat the words in her fury.

"But I wasn't," Charlie said. He knew the words would mean nothing to Quill, but the look on The Doctor's face told him everything. She understood.

"What if you had been?" April asked, her eyes imploring. "Charlie, why didn't you say anything?"

It took a moment for the response to come to him. "I didn't want you to try and stop me."

The sighs that followed were weary, disappointed. The anger seemed to drift away on those sighs, fading from the room. They had come too far now to be so mindlessly angry. No matter how much some of them might have wanted to be.

"Tell me again." The Doctor said once the room had settled into silence.

Charlie let the words come back to him. Telling his story once hadn't seemed to do him much good. Though it seemed as though they might be ready to hear it.

"Tomorrow, it said. We'll find each other again and then-"

"End it." The Doctor finished. 

Charlie nodded. A part of him thought he should have felt more. More anger, more desperation. But no emotions would come.

"And you said it was different?" The Doctor went on. Her words were quiet. Low and cautious, like every breath held a trap she was wary of falling into.

“Not at first,” He said back, his own voice matching The Doctor’s. “But just before I left it was like…” he faltered, searching for just the right words “...like something changed. Just like that.” He went to make a clicking motion, but the sound was quiet and feeble. Like even that was lost.

“And you really think it’s him?” Graham asked. “This friend of yours.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Charlie snapped. He hadn’t meant to say those words or to sound so harsh in his response. He had meant to reassure them, to say that there was no other explanation for what happened. But something in him kept him burning, fuelling that spiral of feelings that still dragged him down. 

None of the others seemed bothered by his outburst. It was no different than their anger at his disappearance. All for show. All to force some life into the dead weight that hung around them.

“Right then,” The Doctor said, though her voice held none of its usual joviality. “Into the TARDIS.”

They all set off at once, eagre for any escape from this conversation. But The Doctor shook her head, sharp and sudden.

“Not you lot,” She said. “Just Charlie.”

Charlie blinked, lost for words, but The Doctor offered no further explanation. She turned on her heels, slipping through the doors as they opened on command. Charlie turned back, his eyes finding April’s without even trying. 

“It’s alright,” She said. “I’ll wait for you.”

Her words didn’t do much to reassure him, but her smile seemed genuine. Even if her eyes still held that hollow sadness. He found himself turning to Quill, who gave him no more than a casual shrug. Unsure and unprepared, he followed The Doctor inside.

No sooner had he crossed the threshold than the doors swung shut behind him.

“So,” The Doctor said when she was certain they were alone. “We need a plan, then.”

“Why aren’t the others here?” Charlie asked, still staring at the closed doors.

The Doctor moved away from her console, coming to stand beside him. There was something in her face Charlie had never seen before. A warmth and kindness that seemed to radiate across her face. For a moment, Charlie found himself thinking of his mother. Her eyes had never shone quite like The Doctor’s. In fact, she had always seemed distant. Like she was never truly looking at him, but something in the distance, far beyond him and always out of reach. He blinked, shaking off the memory like a chill on a cold night.

“You were right,” The Doctor said, not addressing his question. “I always knew you were. Ever since the morning we were first attacked, I knew something was off.”

Charlie couldn’t help but frown. “Right about what?”

“You know what.” She replied, without even a hint of doubt.

He wasn’t sure he did. There were a million thoughts running through his mind. A thousand questions and even more possible answers. But one thing stuck out. The same thing that had been on his mind for days. 

He didn’t get a chance to say it aloud, as The Doctor went back to her console. For some reason, Charlie felt the need to follow. He took a place beside her, turning to lean against the panels just as she did.

“Did it say anything else to you?” She asked. “Any details about when and where this is all supposed to happen?”

Charlie shook his head. “Just ‘tomorrow’. And then, ‘where everything started’. It just let me go after that.”

“D’you know why?” The Doctor asked, in a tone that implied she already knew.

Charlie thought for a moment. “Because there was nothing else to do. It can’t hurt me. Not while it’s in Matteusz’s head.”

The Doctor muttered something to herself, words that sounded like, “...thought as much…” but she offered no further explanation.

“You know where it means, though. You know ‘where everything started’ actually is.” She said, aloud this time.

Charlie nodded but offered no reply. Just like when he had gone looking for the Gestalt, it was instinct that gave him his answers. Whatever kind of connection they had, it would take him where he needed to be.

“You said you had a plan,” Charlie said, after a moment’s silence. “Or at least some way to stop all this. Will it still work?”

“I think so.” The Doctor said, though her tone was less certain.

“Then why didn’t you tell us? Why did you let me go through all that? The hope, the frustration, the emptiness. Why couldn’t you just be honest?”

There was a pause before The Doctor spoke. “I didn’t tell the others because the Gestalt would just end up finding everything out. If it reads their minds, all our plans are pointless. That’s why they’re not here right now,” Another moment passed before she continued. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t like it. You were still so determined to save him. You wouldn’t hear of any compromise.”

“Compromise?” Charlie said, feeling like little more than a distant echo, bouncing The Doctor’s words right back to her.

“I can’t save everyone,” She said, in a tone of resignation. “Not everything ends cleanly, like April and the Shadow-Kin. We got lucky that time. This is different.”

Charlie knew that now. He found it hard to believe it had only been yesterday that The Doctor told them about the Gestalt. About what it was doing to the person he loved. He remembered how adamant he had been, how certain that Matteusz would be saved. That all would go back to normal. Those thoughts seemed no more than a dream to him now. The dreams of a stupid, entitled child who barely knew what ‘no’ meant. Who thought the things he had been through made him somehow better than the people around him. Like his suffering was worth more than theirs.

“So what is the plan?” He asked. It had to be done, whatever it was. He couldn’t let himself heal until he knew he had done all he could. 

The Doctor turned back to face the console, her face springing into action. “One: we know that, for whatever reason, there’s a part of Matteusz still separate from the Gestalt. Two: we know that part is strong enough to change the Gestalt’s behaviour, to keep it from completely taking over. Three: we know that part can also take back control for very brief moments. We saw that much when it first attacked us.”

Charlie nodded. For the first time in days, he felt he knew where the conversation was going. “So we need to find a way to bring that part back permanently.” He said. He could still hear the doubt creeping into his words, but it no longer threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Exactly.” The Doctor said, a smile breaking through her mask of composure.

“But how do we do that?” He asked, not wanting any detail to go unchecked.

The Doctor reached into the pocket of her coat, rummaging around for something nestled at the bottom. “Give me a sec. I know it’s in here.” 

She brought something out, nestled in the palm of her hand. Charlie recognised it almost immediately. It was the same square patch he had found stuck to his temple when he’d woken up from his dream state. Now, he saw it in detail for the first time. Its centre was slightly raised, and its surface was a strange kind of texture he’d never seen before.

“A neural blocker.” The Doctor said in explanation. “Shuts down different parts of the brain, stops them working.”

“Wouldn’t that just put it to sleep?” Charlie asked. If that was the compromise The Doctor had meant, he wasn’t sure if he wanted it.

“Well, the one we gave you did.” She said, undeterred. “But we can modify it. Alter it so it shuts down whatever parts the Gestalt controls. Basically, taking away its sentience.”

It seemed too simple. For a moment, Charlie doubted she was even serious. “And that’s it?” He asked. “Then it’s over.”

The Doctor’s smile faded. “No,” She said. “I already told you, this is never over.”

“I don’t-”

“You don’t understand because you’re trying not to,” The Doctor said. “This isn’t some kind of magic cure. It doesn’t just make the problem go away. All we’d be doing is trapping the Gestalt in Matteusz’s subconscious. Keeping it there and praying it never gets out again.”

For a moment, Charlie thought about the white room he had seen in his dream. The one with no windows, no doors, no view of the outside world. Matteusz had always been waiting there for him, never even questioning where he was.

_ “All I know is what’s here.” _

Those words hadn’t meant anything to Charlie at the time, but now they seemed to make sense. That room was the prison. The prison that the Gestalt had forced Matteusz into. The one they would have to keep it in.

“So that’s the compromise.” He said, barely even aware he was speaking the words aloud.

The Doctor nodded. “If you really want Matteusz back, then the Gestalt stays in his head for the rest of his life. We try anything else, it’ll end up killing them both.”

Charlie had heard those words before. The Doctor had said the same thing to them only yesterday. Yet he’d somehow forgotten what they meant. Either that, or he’d chosen to ignore them. All because it didn’t fit his idea of what saving someone meant. Because he wouldn’t get what he wanted. But that was in the past, he told himself. Now, he knew better.

“How do we do it?” He asked.

The Doctor looked him over. “I thought you knew that already.”

Charlie shook his head. He thought he’d known, walking back from that dead man’s house. He thought he’d had it all figured out, that knowing the Gestalt didn’t have full control meant all those other problems didn’t matter. Even when he’d told his story to the others, he thought he’d finally figured it out. But hearing that raw, bitter truth again had stripped all that certainty away from him.

“I thought I could bring him back,” He said. “Like that time in the hall. I thought the Gestalt not killing me meant-”

“That the rules didn’t matter,” The Doctor finished. “I saw that much in your face.”

Charlie lowered his head, whether in shame or frustration he wasn’t sure.

“You weren’t wrong, though,” The Doctor said. “You’re just doubting yourself.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe you can’t talk him out, but you can do something. You’re the one the Gestalt’s interested in. You’re the thing Matteusz is holding on for.”

Charlie looked up, meeting The Doctor’s gaze, that warmth returning to her eyes. “But what?” He asked. “What do I have to do.”

The Doctor gave a sigh. “I can’t tell you.” She said. “I can’t know the plan. None of us can. Our minds can still be read.”

Charlie found himself thinking about all the threats that had come before. About the times he had been the one strike that final blow. It had been his confession, his guilt, that the prisoner had been looking for. It had been his command that had destroyed the Shadow-Kin. But both those times, someone else had been the one to push him to it. It was Quill who had destroyed the rock at the last minute, saving him from being dragged into that prison himself. It was April who had stood against the Shadow-Kin before him. Now, he had to do it alone. Ram and Tanya were on some planet far away. Ryan and Yaz were lying comatose in some room way down in the TARDIS. And those that were with him couldn’t know, or else their entire plan might come crumbling. 

While he thought, he heard a snap of The Doctor’s fingers open the TARDIS doors and the others come filing in. She spoke to them, though Charlie couldn’t hear the words she used. None of them approached him, only watching him with doubtful, uneasy eyes. Charlie found himself looking at each of them in turn. Graham, the man whose friends had fallen fighting someone else’s battles. April, the friend who’d never left his side. But it was Quill’s face that held him the longest. And not just her face, something clutched tight in her good hand. Her gun. Charlie remembered how it had felt to hold it like that, to rest his finger on the trigger. The Gestalt had flinched when he’d drawn it, its mask of calm cracking for the briefest of moments. It was the same gun that had shot April, the one that had made it possible to end the Shadow-Kin once and for all.

It was with that thought, that memory, that Charlie’s plan came to him.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here. The moment you've all been waiting for.  
> Also, can we ignore the fact that I didn't know the act and scene number of the Macbeth quote earlier? It'll be much better for my self-esteem. I promise I'm not a fake Shakespeare nerd.

> _" These violent delights have violent ends_
> 
> _And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,_
> 
> _Which, as they kiss, consume."_

_-_ Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare (Act II, Scene VI)

* * *

_ Light. An endless white. In his eyes. In his head. In his body.  _

_ No sights. No sounds. _

_ Just light. _

_ Where? He wasn’t here or there. He just was. _

_ His thoughts were slow. Grinding. Getting slower.  _

_ His body was a lead weight. No movement. No feeling. _

_ Time was passing. All at once and not at all. When was he? _

_ Then a feeling. A  _

_ memory. Something in his _

_ hand. Holding it tight. Palms sweating. The _

_ gun. Hard and cold. His finger pressing on the _

_ trigger.  _

_ Firing. _

_ Then the _

_ scream. All those _

_ voices. Then _

_ shouting. _

_ Running. _

_ It was over.  _

_ How? _

_ He’d done it. _

_ At what cost? _

* * *

_ 4 hours before _

Charlie didn’t sleep. He hadn’t known if he could face it, seeing Matteusz again. And even if he could, there was no way of knowing it would be safe. Whether or not all his plans would come undone. Besides, even if he had wanted to, his body and mind had other ideas. He'd sat there on the edge of his bed, still as marble, silent as the grave. The chill of the midnight air whistling through the broken windows hadn't even made him flinch. He'd held the gun so tight in his grip that his palm turned slick with sweat, and his knuckles grew stiff and aching. But he couldn't move. Not even an inch. His mind held him captive. After searching for so long, he finally knew what he had to do. How he could make it right. And yet it could still go so terribly wrong. Every possibility, every single chance of failure, had seared itself into his vision. If he dreamed, he'd known those failures would have been waiting to greet him.

But now, the night was over. Dawn had broken, basking the room in glorious oranges, reds and pinks as the sky burst with colour. Morning rose before him, bright and fresh. Full of hope. 

It was time.

He stood, his eyes set on the door before him. He was out of the room and down the stairs before he even had time to think. Waiting there, just as he had expected, was Quill. She turned to him, her eyes holding a thousand unspoken words. It had been difficult to ask her what he needed to know without revealing his plan. But seeing her gaze drift down to the gun in his hand put his mind at ease. She didn't know, not yet. That one question had been far too vague to give any real details away. He had made sure of that. But her glance was a suspicious one. One that said she was onto him.

“Where’s The Doctor?” Charlie asked, trying to force some other subject into his head.

Quill lifted her gaze back to him, still wary. “Don’t know.” She said, blunt as usual.

Charlie sighed, his eyes searching for the clock on the nearby wall. 

_ 8:39 _

He didn’t know if there was a specific time for all this to happen. For all he knew, the Gestalt might already be waiting for him. How long would it stay there? How long before his chance was gone?

Quill seemed to notice his unease. “She’ll be coming back,” She said, her voice a little softer. “Whatever it is you’re doing, she’s the only one who knows about it.”

She was right, of course. The Doctor knew more about his plan than anyone else. But even she only knew so much. The final action, the killing blow, had to be his alone.

He tried to pass the time as best he could. He made himself eat a simple breakfast, buttered toast and a mug of milky tea. He might have wanted something stronger, but he wasn’t sure his nerves could handle it. Quill refused his offer of food, instead insisting on a black coffee. Charlie didn’t have the heart to tell her that he couldn’t stand the stuff. He just made what he could, trying not to let his discomfort show on his face. All the while, the gun sat on the counter by his side. If he let it out of his sight for even a second, he feared it might disappear completely. And he needed that gun. Otherwise, there was nothing.

When they were both done, he made his excuses and went back upstairs. Forcing some kind of normality into his morning - changing into fresh clothes, cleaning himself up, tidying what he could of his room - almost made him forget. His heart seemed to settle, his frantic mind slowing to a quiet halt as he went through his routine. Never in his life had he been so grateful for something so mundane.

Almost two hours must have passed before he heard the familiar screeching of The Doctor’s TARDIS. Even shut away in his room, the sound had been as clear as if he’d been standing right next to it. He’d wanted to race down as fast as he could, not stopping to talk, or think, or even breathe. But he made himself walk. Slow and deliberate. Every step bringing him closer. 

He saw April first. Dark shadows under her eyes seemed to scream her lack of sleep to everyone around. She tried to smile when she saw him come in, but both of them knew it was a hollow gesture.

Then he saw The Doctor, leaning against her ship and watching him with a kind of intensity he had never seen in her before. But, in a way, he was thankful for that. At least he knew she was taking this seriously.

“So we’re going now?” Quill said, though there was no questioning in her tone.

The Doctor nodded, eyes still on Charlie. Something in her gaze made him falter, tapping the pocket he knew he’d left the gun in. Even feeling it through the fabric gave him comfort in a way that, by now, was beginning to unsettle him. So much of his hope rested on that gun. And so many hopes before this one. The more he let himself think about it, the more he realised death seemed to follow him everywhere.

There was no further response. No more discussion. The Doctor let the doors open, turning away from them and disappearing into the TARDIS. Without even thinking, Charlie followed, April and Quill close behind him. Graham was waiting inside, though none of them gave him much acknowledgement. All their eyes were drawn to the monitor’s screen as it flickered to life. The display was split into four sections, each one playing a different piece of footage. All black and white. All of empty rooms. Charlie recognised them right away. They were all from somewhere in Coal Hill. The entrance occupied the top left-hand corner. The top-right showed the hall. The bottom-left was what looked like some part of the canteen. And the final, bottom-right square, showed the classroom. The one he had seen in his dream. Where the rift had opened. It felt strange to see the place so empty, another reminder of all that had happened in the last few days. The morning they had first seen the Gestalt, the day Tanya and Ram had been attacked, had been a Thursday. Now, he knew almost instinctively, it was Sunday. He wondered how much time had passed before then. How long had Matteusz spent battling the monster in his head? A week, maybe. Or even less.

“Security camera footage,” The Doctor said, snapping Charlie out of his daze. “Managed to get a few of them running without bringing the whole system back on.”

“What for?” Graham asked. Looking at his face, Charlie wouldn’t have been surprised if The Doctor hadn’t told him anything.

“Because we need to see what’s going on down there without being in the room,” The Doctor said, addressing the whole group with her response. “These are the four most likely places it’ll go.”

“They’re all at the school,” April said, though her words were uncertain.

The Doctor nodded. “If you think about it, any definition of ‘where it all began’ leads us back here. The school’s the centre of all the rift openings. It’s the place all of you met. The place where everything happens.”

Charlie had known all along. There was no other place they all had in common. No place the Gestalt could pick up on to drag them back to. It had to be Coal Hill. It was always Coal Hill.

“So let me get this straight,” Quill said, a slight hint of exasperation in her voice. “Our job is to do nothing? We just watch while Charles enacts this little plan of his?”

“It’s the best option we have,” Charlie found himself saying. “If you’re there, it’ll just end up hurting you to try and get to me.”

Quill seemed to sigh. “Ok then, say something goes wrong. Who’s to say we’ll get there in time to save you?”

“I’m not saying it isn’t risky,” The Doctor said, “But Charlie’s right. It’s the lesser of two evils.”

Quill didn’t seem entirely satisfied, but she didn’t try and argue back. The Doctor turned her gaze on Charlie.

“Do you know what you have to do?” She asked. For a moment, it seemed as if her voice was the only thing in the universe. That everything else had ceased to be. 

Charlie nodded. He couldn’t find any words to say, anything that would sound even remotely convincing. He’d always known it would be difficult. But now, facing the end head-on, he didn’t know if he had the strength to do it.

* * *

The clock mounted on the wall ticked its way over 11:30. Every second that passed made Charlie all the more nervous. He was alone, here in the hall, with the gun tucked away in his pocket, waiting. It must have been an hour since he arrived, maybe more. An hour since they’d left him. An hour with no sign of the Gestalt. In that time, he’d found the same two thoughts racing through his head, fighting for dominance.

_ This is all part of its plan. It’s keeping me here. Trying to make me nervous. It wants me off my guard. _

He didn’t know how reassuring that thought was. As long as it was in his mind, he felt he could force a sense of calm to wash over him. He told himself that all he had to do was wait. To show it that it couldn’t get to him. Then the doubt would creep in. The hesitation, the panic. And that second thought would force its way through.

_ It’s a trick. It was never going to meet me here. It wanted me out of the way. It’s going after them, after the others. After all of them. And I’m just standing here. _

It was all-consuming. It took every rational thought he had and drowned them in fear. He would think about running, about trying to find the others and stop the whole thing. But he didn’t even know where they were. None of them had told him, probably to stop this exact kind of thing from happening. He turned, forcing himself to look away from the door. At the state of the room around him.

It seemed to have been cleaned up a little since he’d last seen it. There were no shards of glass on the floor, no loose wooden splinters sticking out from the stage. But the scars of the attack still remained. The lights were still broken, their bulbs shattered and useless, and there was still a dip in the floor of the stage. A mark from where Ram had fallen. Without the lights, the room seemed grey and lifeless, every corner draped in shadow. Not so dark that he couldn’t see, but enough to make him wary of what might be hiding. 

“Afraid of the dark, prince?”

The sound of the voice made Charlie shriek. He turned so suddenly he almost didn’t see who was standing before him. But still, he knew. There was no one else it could be.

Even in the dim light, the Gestalt still seemed colder than everything surrounding it. It still wore the same blood-drenched clothes, but the blood on its face and hand - its own blood - was gone. Now, Charlie could see the scar left behind. It cut across the left side of its face from temple to cheek, missing its pale eye by mere inches. The sight of it almost made him gasp, but he fought to keep his mask of calm.

“You’re late,” Charlie said, trying to force a little smugness into his tone.

If the Gestalt had even heard the words, it didn’t react. There was something in its face that seemed different. That look of cruel confidence was gone, replaced by cold, hard anger.

“But you didn’t want to come, did you?” Charlie asked. There was no strength in his body to support the easy words he spoke, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He was running on adrenaline now, powered by pure fear. “Not really.”

“Is this your plan?” The Gestalt asked, speaking with one voice alone. “You want to taunt me.”

“What do you want me to do?” Charlie asked, somehow finding a way to sound indignant. “This was your idea, wasn’t it? To end it. Or maybe to end me. But, either way, why should I have to be the one to start it?”

No response. The Gestalt’s scowl only deepened, those eyes burning with hatred.

Charlie took a step forward, moving with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Is it because you can’t? You can’t hurt me while you’re in his body. You’re just looking for an excuse.”

“You think I mean to kill you?” The Gestalt said, though its words seemed just as hollow as Charlie’s.

“Well, why don’t you?” Charlie said. “I’m the only thing keeping you from doing what you really want. As long as I’m here, he has something to fight for. So why not just kill me?”

He knew he was playing a dangerous game. Every insolent word brought him closer to the firing line. But it was necessary. Whatever came after - pain, terror, or something even worse - it had to happen.

“Why do you even listen to him, anyway?” Charlie went on. He couldn’t give his enemy even a moment to recover. He needed its anger to overwhelm rationality. The words hurt him to say, to put on that cruelty so many others saw in him. To pretend it was real. But there was nothing else he could do. “Why are you letting a human control you like that? You know you’re better than them.”

A flicker of something, perhaps doubt or hesitation, flashed in the Gestalt’s eyes for just a moment. Charlie took it as a sign. His plan was working.

“And of all the humans,” he said, letting his words turn cold and sharp, “Why him? Why not someone who matters?”

“You don’t mean-”

“Don’t I?” Charlie snapped, his voice rising. “Are you calling me a liar? Look in his mind. See how many times I listened to him.”

He let the moment hang, let the Gestalt consider his words while the air hung heavy around them.

“Then why do you fight for him?” The Gestalt asked. “Why save him if you care so little?”

Charlie forced himself to scoff while trying to keep his voice level. Every word scolded his throat, tore him apart from the inside. “Because he’ll do anything for me. You already know that. You’ve seen how much he adores me. Why waste an opportunity like that?”

Somehow, he could feel it. Those walls were breaking down. The line between Matteusz and the Gestalt was blurring, those human emotions bleeding through.

He didn’t give it a chance to respond. 

“So, go on then. You want to let some worthless human get in your way, then fine. If you’re so easily held back, then you’re not worth the effort of killing.” He hated the way he sounded, every second of it. This was the person Matteusz had feared he always was. The person the Quill had seen back on his home planet. He had sworn to himself that he would try and change, to never be that person again. Being here, in this moment, he felt like a traitor. To himself, and to everyone he held dear.

But no matter how much it hurt, it had done the trick. No sooner had he even finished his thought than he felt that force slamming into him, knocking him to the ground. He collided with the floor below, barely managing to hold out an arm to catch himself. Pain shot through him, stunning him, sending the room spinning. A second later, he was up again, being hauled to his feet and slammed into the wall. He felt his lip split on impact, his nose cracking and breaking. He bit down on his tongue to stop from crying out as he felt the blood begin to trickle down.

“Is this what you wanted?” Came the Gestalt’s voice, dripping with fury. “You want me to kill you?”

Charlie felt its hold on him release and he staggered back, barely keeping himself upright. He turned, found himself looking into those empty eyes.

“I know your game.” It said, through gritted teeth. “I kill you here, then your little friends come running to finish me off. Is that it?”

Charlie wiped the blood from his mouth, the warm, metallic taste of it clinging to his tongue. He didn’t care what the Gestalt thought his plan was. All he needed was the emotion. For the barrier between it and Matteusz to crumble. Already, he could see the cracks, his words from before striking all those deep-rooted insecurities Matteusz had kept so hidden.

“Maybe,” He said, “But does it matter? You’re going to fall for it anyway.”

He barely heard the Gestalt's cry of anger before his body stiffened and the chokehold was on him. He felt the grip so tight around his neck that he feared his spine might shatter. He wanted to gag, to try and claw at his throat for some kind of relief, but his body refused his commands. Then came the pain. A sharp, slicing pain concentrated in his forearm. Beneath the jacket he wore, he felt the skin begin to part, like an invisible knife was cutting him open. All with no more than a thought. No scream would come to him, no tears or sudden breaths. His vision was failing, the world going black as his body begged for air. But nothing came. Just pain and blood.

"I won't do what you want anymore." He heard the Gestalt snap at him. Its voice seemed distant, like it spoke through a wall of glass. Another two slices cut his other arm and a short, shallow line across his chest. Then the chokehold vanished, and he dropped to his knees, gasping for air. He tried to take a moment to steady himself, to stop his head from swimming. He felt blood. On his face, in his mouth, seeping through his clothes. But the wounds were all shallow, barely enough to leave a scar. It was a warning. A show of what might come next.

He made himself stand, first one foot, then the other. He stumbled, his head still throbbing, but he managed to keep himself upright. His vision was hazy. His hearing muffled. But even that was enough to see the Gestalt. To see its bitter expression. To hear its voice waver. For a moment, it almost sounded like Matteusz again.

Almost there. Now, for the killing blow.

"Did you enjoy that?" He made himself ask, though now the scorn was gone from his voice. "Did it make you feel better?"

The response was sudden, seemingly instinctive. "You won't win." It said, something verging on desperation in his voice.

Charlie straightened himself again, blinking until his vision became clearer.

"Then stop me." He said. "Finish me off."

He waited for some other kind of attack. To be flung backwards into the stage behind, or for more bones to be broken, but nothing came.

He looked the Gestalt dead in the eye, every muscle in his body tensed. "Listen to me," He said, quiet and low. "I want this to end too. I know you're trying. You want this to stop. And I know it won't let you."

The Gestalt seemed to frown. "What are you-"

"You remember the Shadow-Kin?" He said, cutting it off before it could finish. He was breaking through. He could feel it. "You remember what I had to do to stop them?" He wiped yet more blood from his lip, the taste almost making him gag. "I never said I was sorry."

"Stop it," The Gestalt said, "Stop talking!" Its voice was strained, like something was holding its words back. Charlie heard the battle that raged behind that voice, now that walls were starting to fall. For the first time since that morning in the hall, he saw a glimpse of Matteusz in those eyes.

He reached a hand into his pocket. By some miracle, the gun was still there, nestled amongst the fabric. He grasped the handle, his fingers settling into that all too familiar position.

"I didn't mean what I said before." He said, his own voice wavering. "I hope you know that. I had to try and break through somehow. I'm sorry." He took a long, deep breath. "And I'm sorry for this, too."

The gun was out before he even knew it, his finger on the trigger. Ready to fire.

"You won't." The Gestalt said, though there was no hint of certainty in its voice.

"I have to," Charlie said, every word bringing him closer to tears. "For him."

“You tried before. You couldn’t do it.” Again, that panic, the sudden fear that seemed to flood that cold, pale face.

“No,” Charlie said, on the verge of tears, “Last time, it was you I threatened to kill.”

He saw that look, the look of realisation. In an instant, the Gestalt knew everything. The tricks behind his words, the anger that had brought it so close to the edge. It was all to make it weak. To make it loosen its hold on Matteusz's mind. He only had a few moments before the shock wore off, before his opportunity slipped away.

But he still had one trick left.

"I love you." He whispered, a last, futile gesture for forgiveness.

He put the gun to his head.

Took a deep breath.

And pulled the trigger.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I'm back. Sorry about the wait. For some god-forsaken reason, I thought it would be a great idea to delete the whole chapter at 11:30 pm last Thursday because I thought I could do it better. Cue sudden realisation followed by almost a week's long unproductive slump (because life just won't leave me alone right now) and you pretty much get the picture.   
> However, I'm back and (hopefully) better than ever. Let's see if this chapter was worth the wait.  
> That is if I'm still valid in this fandom.

> _"In the midst of life we are in death."_

\- Proverb

* * *

_ Day One _

It came to him slowly. In and out. Drifting on the gentle tide of consciousness. He heard things, snippets of conversations. But the words meant nothing. There was pain too. A constant, dull pain that refused to go away. He didn't know where it was. It seemed like everywhere. Coursing through him. In his blood, his bones and his skin. 

He didn't know how long it lasted. Time meant nothing. He judged its passing by the light he saw behind his eyes. Trying to get in. Trying to wake him up. All to no avail. With that light and the promise of consciousness, came memories. Feelings. Sounds. The memory of falling. The feeling of the gun in his hand. The sound of screaming.

Before he had a chance to make sense of it all, he felt that light come streaming through again. It lifted him, pulling him back from the murky depths of unconsciousness. Back to the real world.

"He's awake." 

The voice that spoke was familiar. A man's voice, kind with a cheerful lilt. He knew that voice. And when he opened his eyes, he saw he knew the man's face too. Even with his vision blurred and his head pounding, he recognised Graham.

More faces came into view, surrounding him as he tried to ease himself up.

“No, no. Stay down. We need to check you over.” It was The Doctor’s voice, but he couldn’t work out which of the blonde-haired figures she was. His head throbbed, the pain shooting all the way through him. In his temples, behind his eyes. Even down the back of his neck.

“He might be concussed.” Came another voice. April, her tone cautious.

“Maybe,” The Doctor agreed. She was out of sight now. Beyond his field of vision. “Give him space.”

He tried to speak, to mutter some question or other, but April stopped him.

“It’s ok,” She said. “You’re alright.”

Then came a high pitched, metallic whine that seemed familiar in an all too distant way. There was a new light, a yellow one, like the colours of the TARDIS console. For a moment, he thought it might have been the Sonic Screwdriver, but he could have sworn he remembered it being snapped in half.

“No major damage,” The Doctor’s voice came again. “Possibly a mild concussion, but nothing we can’t sort out.”

The third figure, the one who must have been Quill, said nothing. Instead, she seemed to watch him, probably scowling in that way she always did. He felt his vision begin to sharpen, just enough to see the faces that stood over him, and the room he was in. He knew the room. It was a spare room on the TARDIS. One he’d seen before.

Confused, and sick of lying down, Charlie lifted himself up, resting against the wall behind.

Now, he saw their faces more clearly. Their expressions seemed, for the most part, relieved but with a hint of something Charlie couldn’t identify. A kind of tension. A lack of certainty. Only Quill seemed not to hide her frustration.

“You’re a bloody idiot.” She said, though there was no malice in her tone.

April seemed to give her a look of dismay, but Quill and The Doctor paid it no mind.

"Nice to see you, too." Charlie managed, though his voice sounded hoarse and weak.

The Doctor's face seemed to soften. "Why don't you lot go and wait outside?"

There was a moment's hesitation before the rest of the group seemed to get the hint. April was the first to turn and leave, followed by Graham. Quill lingered a while longer, watching Charlie with an emotion he couldn't quite place. Just then, he noticed she was holding the gun. The one he had used. She noticed his look, glared at him, and tossed it to him with careless abandon. Then she turned away, offering no response, and left.

Charlie blinked. Even with his head still swimming, he managed to feel even more dumbfounded. He looked to The Doctor, hoping she might offer some kind of answer, but she seemed preoccupied examining the readings on her sonic.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" She asked, not taking her eyes off the reading.

Charlie blinked, confused. "Three?" He hated how uncertain his voice sounded, but he couldn't seem to keep it under control.

The Doctor nodded. "Good. Not concussed after all."

He didn't care about any of that. There was only one thing he wanted. One thing he had to know.

"Where is he?"

The Doctor looked up, her smile fading. She knew who he meant. There wasn't anyone else he was thinking about.

"He's safe, if that's what you mean. Ryan and Yaz are looking after him." She said, her words solemn. 

The thought should have given him a sense of relief. If Ryan and Yaz were ok, it meant his plan had worked. That the Gestalt had been trapped. Instead, all he could think about was what that meant for Matteusz. About the kind of life, he would now have to lead.

“I want to see him.” The words came before Charlie had even finished his thought. The days since they had last been together felt almost like a lifetime. So much had come between them - the days they had spent apart after detention, the weeks after Charlie used the Cabinet, and now the days Matteusz had been lost to the Gestalt. It felt as if the universe was trying to force them apart. To punish them for some unknown crime. Or, at least, a crime in Charlie’s case. Matteusz had done nothing to deserve the horrors he had been through. 

The Doctor didn’t give him a response. Instead, she held out a hand, helping him stand without falling. His legs felt unstable, like any moment they could collapse beneath him, but he managed to stay upright nonetheless.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” The Doctor asked.

Now it was Charlie’s turn not to respond. He knew The Doctor would take him regardless. Determination burned within him, holding back any fear he might have had. After everything, all he’d done and said, he’d finally won. And nothing was going to take that away from him.

* * *

The sight of his boyfriend almost made Charlie sob. It was him, just as he always had been. He lay motionless on the bed, cold and quiet save for his gentle breathing. The colour had come back to him, making even the dark shadows beneath his eyes seem vibrant. For a moment, Charlie couldn’t bring himself to go any further into the room. He feared that if he did, the scene might melt away before him. Like a dream he couldn’t quite reach. But seeing Ryan turn his head to face him cast aside any doubts.

“He’s up?” He asked, addressing The Doctor without taking his eyes off Charlie.

The Doctor nodded. “A little shaken, but he’ll recover.”

Now Yaz’s gaze was on them, too. It didn’t seem right to Charlie. He wasn’t the one they should be watching.

“More to the point,” The Doctor said, “How are you two?”

They both nodded as if neither one of them could find the right words.

“We’re fine,” Yaz said, after the silence began to grow uncomfortable. Charlie didn’t imagine she was lying, but something in The Doctor’s eyes seemed unconvinced.

“Do you mind giving us a minute?” She asked. “Give them some space.”

Ryan turned his gaze to Matteusz’s unconscious form, then back to Charlie. There was a hint of hesitation in his demeanour, yet he nodded all the same. 

When they were both gone, the door slid closed behind them.

“They both woke up as soon as we stopped it,” The Doctor said, almost to herself. “The others, too. All those people in comas. Just back to normal. Like nothing ever happened.”

Charlie didn’t reply. He might have guessed as much. With the Gestalt stripped of its power, its hold over the people’s minds would have been lifted. He didn’t feel like he needed to be told. Just like he didn’t need to know where The Doctor’s new sonic had come from. Either that, or he just didn’t care.

The Doctor seemed to notice his apathy. She turned to him, her gaze intent and serious. “Did you know what you were doing out there?” There was something stern in her tone, like she was reprimanding him for something he didn’t understand.

“Of course I did,” He said, trying not to sound defensive. “I asked Quill about the gun beforehand. I never wanted it to kill me.”

“That’s not the point,” The Doctor said, her words almost sharp. “Did you not think that firing a stun gun directly at your head might do you serious damage?”

“It was only-”

“There’s no ‘only’ about it, Charlie. That thing is a weapon. You might as well have slammed your head into a brick wall. Never mind a concussion, you might have died if you’d been under too long.” Now her words were bordering on furious. But Charlie knew most of the anger was only for show. A cover to hide her disappointment.

“Maybe I’d have deserved it,” He said. He couldn’t find the energy to match her frustration. Instead, his words were hollow, weighed down by a lifetime’s worth of guilt. “After everything I’ve done to him. Everything I’ve said.”

The Doctor sighed. “You know you didn’t mean any of it. You said what you had to say to bring him back.”

“But it worked,” He said, as he let himself sink into a chair by Matteusz’s bedside. “It was real enough to bring him back. Doesn’t that say something about me?”

It was that thought that cut him the most. What did it say about him that his worst self could seem so real?

Neither of them gave any further reply. Both of them seemed resigned to the reality they were confronted with. The one that might never feel normal again.

Charlie found himself looking at Matteusz. For the first time, he saw the small, square patch on his temple. It looked almost identical to the one they had used on Charlie. Up close, however, its markings were different. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how it worked, but The Doctor had assured them it would be enough to keep him unconscious until she was done working on something more permanent.

“When will he wake up?” Charlie found himself asking.

The Doctor hesitated. “I don’t know. Progress on the new blocker seems steady but..” she faltered for a moment, tripping over her words, “Charlie, you have to prepare for the fact that it might not work like you want it to.”

Charlie nodded. No matter how many times he told himself those same words, his mind refused to take it in.

But The Doctor wasn’t finished. “The hard part’s over now, but still. Best prepare for the worst. Just in case.”

He nodded again. He wasn’t thinking about The Doctor’s words anymore. He wasn’t thinking about anything anymore.

“I’m staying with him,” He said. “As long as it takes.”

He didn’t know if The Doctor gave him any reply. He didn’t know how long had passed before she left the room. He didn’t try to keep track of time as it slipped away from him. All he did was sit, letting the empty thoughts consume him.

* * *

_ Day Two _

“They’re opening the school.”

Charlie blinked, turning suddenly at the sound of the new voice. He found April standing behind him, a hand resting on his shoulder. He hadn’t noticed her come in. He hadn’t noticed much of anything since he’d woken up a few hours ago. She seemed to be wearing different clothes than before, so he assumed another day had passed.

April smiled down at him. “Next week. They’ve found another place for us to use. We’re starting on Monday.”

Charlie nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t know if he could face school again. He hadn’t been since he’d used the Cabinet of Souls, and he wasn’t sure if he could force that sense of normality back into his life.

It was almost as if April had read his mind, as her eyes filled with worry. “Charlie, you can’t just stay here.” She said, sympathetic as ever. "You'll make yourself ill, locked away all alone."

"I'm not leaving him." He said, leaving no room for argument.

"The Doctor can look after-"

"That's not what I meant." He snapped, frustration getting the better of him. April recoiled, her expression faltering.

Charlie sighed, forcing himself to calm down. "All this only happened is because I wasn't there for him. I'm not making that mistake again."

He forced himself to look away. Something about April, her look of pity and regret, brought tears to his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. Not here. He had to be strong.

He heard her footsteps begin to die away and almost turned back to see her off. Instead, he let her final words wash over him.

"This isn't your fault, Charlie."

He didn't know if he believed her. He wanted to, more than anything. But something in the back of his mind, a nagging doubt that followed him everywhere, told him otherwise. He almost hated her for that relentless, hopeful nature of hers. He didn't see how anyone could feel hopeful now. But he said nothing and kept his frustrations at bay.

She was gone by the time he turned around, her footsteps vanishing into the distance.

* * *

_ Day Three _

He couldn't take his eyes off the scar. He had tried at first, a remnant of some old regal courtesies he'd been taught as a child. But empty hours and gnawing hunger had stripped him of his senses. He was a shell now, almost as empty as Matteusz seemed. But he wouldn't move until it was over. Until The Doctor came back with her little patch and brought his boyfriend back to him. Even if it meant collapsing from exhaustion.

It was a surprisingly neat scar. The cut had been deep but clean, leaving a line from temple to chin. An inch further and it might well have taken his eye too. But the sight of it still made Charlie sick with shame. He had seen the blood that fell from that cut, black like dripping ink. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he saw that grey, monstrous figure again. And once or twice, he thought he might open his eyes to find it standing before him, crushing the vain hope he still fought for. But it never happened. Matteusz looked as human as the day they had first met, albeit paler and thinner. He seemed so weak lying there, that Charlie dared not touch him in case he broke. Like a man made of glass.

He didn't know what time it was when the door opened again. He turned, expecting to see Graham or Yaz coming to check up on him. Instead, his eyes fell upon the last people had expected to see. He couldn't find the voice to greet them, but they didn't seem to mind.

Tanya came first, edging into the room like she was expecting some kind of alarm to go off. Her eyes jumped from Charlie to Matteusz, then back again, unsure which of them to see first. Ram was far more certain, staring at Charlie like there was nothing else in the room.

“You look like hell.” He said, as brash as ever.

At first, Charlie didn’t understand what he meant. He knew he must have looked tired - three days with only himself for company would do that to him - but he doubted it was that bad. Then he remembered. The broken nose. The split lip. When he tried to touch the bridge of his nose, he felt a sudden, sharp pain. The skin around it was tender, probably bruised, and his lip began to sting. As if merely remembering the injuries had opened them up again. 

Ram, on the other hand, looked as if the past week had never happened. Tanya too. Their injuries, even the most serious ones, seemed to have healed without any trace. Though there was no telling for definite. While they both acted as normal, Charlie could never know what went on beneath the surface. Did Tanya have a scar where the splinter had stabbed her? Could Ram still walk the same, or was it just as bad as losing a leg to the Shadow-Kin?

In the end, he shrugged, trying not to let the comment get to him. Neither of them seemed particularly distressed or angry. Even Ram seemed civil.

“Are you alright?” Tanya asked, pulling up a chair Charlie had never even noticed.

He nodded quickly, worried that if he did any more, his body might reject the lie outright.

Tanya didn’t seem convinced. “The Doctor told us what happened.”

He nodded again, unable to offer any words of defence.

“You know April’s been worrying about you?” Tanya went on. “You terrified her. She thought you were dead.”

“And Quill won’t stop calling you an idiot,” Ram added, though with far less concern in his tone.

“I know.” Was all Charlie could say. His voice shook with the weight of his words. "What about you? Are you both ok?"

His question was met with a frustrated sigh.

"Jesus, not you too," Ram said, almost laughing. We've already got April fussing over us, we don't need any more from you."

Tanya gave a small smile. "It's fine," she said. "Really, we’re both good."

But it didn't feel like enough. No amount of reassurances could banish the images from his mind. The sight of Ram, lying broken on the stage. Of Tanya’s blood soaking her shirt.

“I’m sorry,” He said, almost on instinct. “About what happened.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Ram and Tanya looked back at one another, like they were deciding how to respond. In the end, Ram was the one who spoke.

“Don’t be,” He said. “It’s not your fault.”

Charlie wanted to protest. “But-”

“And it’s not his, either,” Ram interrupted, making a vague gesture towards Matteusz. “Whatever I said before, just forget it. We talked about it.”

“A lot.” Tanya added with a nod.

Charlie found himself lost for words. He’d been expecting so much more, dreading the arguments that might ensue once normality had returned. It was what they seemed to do, this group of theirs. There was always a problem, always someone who was in the wrong.

“Alright.” Was all he could bring himself to say. But even that felt empty. Tanya and Ram seemed to notice it too. They stood, almost in unison, both making quick glances at the door.

“You’re alright in here?” Tanya asked.

Charlie couldn’t even bring himself to nod. He just looked at her and watched as she left.

* * *

_ Day Four _

The Doctor was already in the room by the time he woke up again. She was crouching by the bedside, blocking Charlie’s view of the room around him. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he stood, trying to see what she was doing. She must have heard him moving, as she turned sharply towards him. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, his head still tired and foggy.

The Doctor held something up to him, about the size of a small computer chip. It even looked a little like one from where he was standing, with its plated surface covered in all manner of engraved lines that he couldn’t even begin to decipher. Attached to its back were small, thin spines, sharpened to a point.

“It’s done.” She said, offering no further explanation.

Charlie frowned. “What? The neural blocker?” He leaned closer, trying to get a better look. “But it looks nothing like-”

“It’s not supposed to look anything like the other one.” The Doctor interrupted. “Those things are pretty simple when it comes down to it. They’re not made for the kind of thing we need them for.” She held the new blocker in her palm. “This uses one of those as its base, but it needed to be modified. Added to. For starters, it’s supposed to be permanent.”

Charlie felt that pang of guilt wash over him, so sudden he felt his eyes begin to water.

“So how does it work?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The Doctor gave him a long look. “I can’t explain it all,” She said. “We’d be here for hours.”

“Just try,” Charlie said, more demanding than he had meant.

The Doctor gave a short sigh of resignation, then held the thing up close. “These things,” She pointed to the spines, “They go in the back of the neck, just here.” She reached around, pressing her fingers into Charlie’s neck to illustrate her point. Her grip was firm. So firm it almost hurt. 

“From there,” She went on. “It gets to the central nervous system and starts shutting down any non-human consciousness it finds.”

He stood there, waiting for her to carry on, but she only looked at him as if she expected some kind of response.

“And that’s it?” He asked, eventually.

“Well, no.” The Doctor said. “Like I said earlier, it’s way more complicated. But that’s the gist of it.”

It didn’t sit right with Charlie. He found himself replaying the words over and over again in his mind. Each time, his thoughts settled on the same thing.

“Non-human…” Even saying the words aloud felt wrong. Like he was somehow making it real.

The Doctor’s expression darkened. “I did say this might not work out how-”

“But did you really mean that?” Charlie asked, suddenly desperate. “Is he not…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. He didn’t even want to entertain the possibility. If it was true, then it was just another thing that had all gone wrong because of him.

“Physically, he’s fine,” The Doctor said, though her tone offered little reassurance. “We checked all his vitals while you were unconscious. Whatever the Gestalt did to change his appearance like that, it’s all gone now.”

The image of the picture book flashed back into Charlie’s mind. It all seemed to make sense, now that everything was over. It had seen that image of the Devil in Matteusz’s mind, something that had stuck with him all those years, and it had used that to keep him back. Making him the thing he feared the most.

Charlie didn’t want to hear any more. He didn’t want to know what Matteusz might have been put through because of him. And what he might still be faced with.

“Come and find me when it’s done.” He said and left the room before The Doctor could object.

* * *

_ Day Five _

He could feel his eyes beginning to close. It was only the middle of the day, but already he was beginning to fall asleep. He had gone past feelings of hunger and thirst now. In fact, all feelings other than tiredness seemed lost to him. He knew he had to stay awake. It had been over a day since The Doctor had finished her neural blocker and still, Mattuesz showed no sign of stirring. No matter what happened, Charlie knew he had to be there. He had to be the first thing Matteusz saw when he woke up.

_ If he wakes up. _

Charlie tried to shake the thought from his mind, but it grew more persistent as time passed. Every second he didn’t wake was a second too long. Every minute felt like a lifetime.

No one else had come to see him. They knew, by now, that he wanted to be left alone. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his tired mind, slow and hazy. His eyelids felt heavy like they were made of lead. Maybe he should close them. Only for a moment. It wouldn’t do him any harm.

The world went dark. All at once, he felt everything begin to calm. He felt better, more content. There was nothing to disturb him but the gentle sound of his own breathing. As long as his eyes were closed, he was alright. The world outside could be anything. He could wake up and find that all this had been nothing more than a dream. And maybe it was. Maybe, when he opened his eyes, he’d be in his own bed. Matteusz would be lying next to him. Quill would be yelling at them to get a move on. It would be normal. Perfectly normal.

But when he listened closer, he heard what sounded like movement. Like the soft rustling of fabric. Like the movement of clothes or bed sheets.

His heart leapt in his chest. His eyes snapped open almost on instinct, all feelings of tiredness deserting him in an instant. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light, but when they did, he knew exactly what he would see.

Matteusz was awake. Half sitting, half lying, his eyes scanned the room with a look of wary confusion. Charlie had to bite his own tongue to keep from crying out as the sudden excitement overwhelmed him. His heart began to race, so fast he could swear it was audible. Then Matteusz turned to him, and the world felt right once again.

“Charlie?” His voice was hoarse, so weak it could barely even speak that one, simple word. Yet it filled Charlie with delight all the same.

“Yes,” Charlie said, unable to keep the smile from his face. “Yes, I’m here. It’s alright.”

Matteusz sat upright, slowly bringing his legs around to the side of the bed. He must have tried to speak at least four times, each of his words trailing off into nothing. There was something in his eyes, a look of borderline panic, that made Charlie reach for his hand, holding it tight between his own.

“Where are we?” Matteusz managed eventually, his eyes still searching the room for something familiar.

“On the TARDIS,” Charlie said, trying to keep his voice level. “It’s alright. The Doctor’s here too.” In truth, he didn’t know where The Doctor was, but he was willing to say anything to keep things calm.

The confusion on Matteusz’s face only deepened as his eyes widened in alarm.

“Why?” He asked. “What happened?”

A cold chill crept its way down Charlie’s neck. A sudden, all-consuming feeling of dread. 

“Don’t you remember?” He said, his voice low and quiet.

Matteusz went to rub his eye and, for a moment, Charlie thought he might respond. But before he could, his fingers came to rest on the scar that lay just an inch away. 

The next few moments seem to pass in slow motion, each second worse than the last. The look of horror that dawned in Matteusz’s eyes as he traced the line made Charlie’s heart break. He seemed to want to speak, to cry out in alarm, but every word was lost. Then, Charlie saw it. The realisation, the memory, striking Matteusz like a tidal wave. Dragging him under. Drowning him.

“No…” Was the only response he gave.

Charlie wanted to say something, to offer some kind of desperate reassurance, but the moment slipped away from him. All he could do was listen to that one, dreadful word.

“No.”

It was slow at first, drawn from disbelief and denial. But as the memories came back, Mattuesz’s voice grew more desperate.

“No!”

That was all it was. That same word, over and over, faster and faster. Spoken so many times it lost all meaning. And all Charlie could do was watch. Watch as Matteusz was consumed by the horror and the guilt all the memories brought. Watch as he searched desperately for salvation.

The words turned to tears. The tears turned to screams. And that was how The Doctor found them. Charlie kneeling beside the bed. Matteusz sobbing in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The starting quote comes from an old 1300s burial prayer. I originally read it in an Agatha Christie book but, after some research, I found the true source to be far more interesting. Feel free to google it to read the whole thing if you're into medieval gregorian chants (and who isn't?).


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, but who gave the UK permission to be this warm? My pale self wasn't made for this.

> _“There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.”_

_\- Dracula, Bram Stoker_

* * *

None of them knew how long they spent there. It felt like no time at all. One moment, Charlie was kneeling on the floor, his arms wrapped around Matteusz's shaking frame. The next, The Doctor was there, standing above them with an arm on each of their shoulders. From there, the change was instantaneous. The crying stopped, like a switch had been flicked, and the weight of the air seemed to lift around them. 

"It might be best if you stayed here." The Doctor said, with her best motherly smile. She seemed to be heading out into the corridor, towards what must have been the console room.

Charlie tried to find the words to protest, but another voice spoke before he could.

"If he doesn't come, then neither do I," Matteusz said. His voice was still weak and his eyes were red from crying. There were still remnants of tears trickling down his cheeks, but he wiped them away with the back of his hand. When he did, his fingers found the scar again. They lingered there as another shade of horror fell over his face.

Charlie couldn't bear to watch. He stood and was at Matteusz's side in an instant. He took the hand that traced the scar and clasped it in his own, holding it close to his chest. For a moment, Matteusz seemed comforted. But then, a flicker of alarm passed over his eyes, so sudden it was almost imperceptible. He pulled his hand away as if he had been burned, and stared at Charlie with a look of sheer dismay.

Before Charlie could even think about responding, The Doctor called to them again.

"Come on, then." She said. "We've got lots to do."

* * *

The console room seemed to have been taken over by monitors and screens, all of them unfamiliar, and The Doctor used each one in turn. Some checked heart rates, others pulse and blood pressure. All ordinary, all mundane. And while she took reading after reading, she asked her questions.

"How are you feeling? How much do you remember? Are you hearing any voices? Seeing things that aren't there?"

Matteusz answered them all in as few words as possible and, while The Doctor seemed immune to his pained expression, Charlie saw the hurt in his eyes. Every word, every reminder of the things that had happened to him, brought more silent tears. To anyone who didn’t know him better, he seemed to be taking it well. But Charlie knew what must be going on behind those eyes. Matteusz was one of the most moral people Charlie had ever met. But now, he had innocent blood on his hands, and it was clear from the look in his eyes that it was tearing him apart.

Charlie couldn't help but feel out of place. Like he was intruding on some kind of private conversation. But Matteusz had insisted he stayed, and Charlie didn't want to think about how things might unfold if he was anywhere else. Still, he couldn’t forget how Matteusz had recoiled from his touch mere moments ago. He didn’t even want to consider why that might have been, but the thought still plagued him, and every time Matteusz’s gaze fell on him, there was that look again. The look of dismay.

If The Doctor had noticed it, she kept it to herself. She finally turned her attention away from the readings and back onto Matteusz. Her expression was a strange one, a look of sympathy, uncertainty and apprehension all blended into one. Without saying a word, she reached around to gently tap the small chip implanted in the back of Matteusz’s neck. He seemed to shudder at her touch, but beyond that, his demeanour never changed. The mask was holding. Charlie had noticed the chip too. It seemed small enough not to be intrusive, but it had a look about it that was distinctly non-human, something even the most unobservant person would see. Just one more constant reminder of all that had happened.

The Doctor must have read his face somehow, as her eyes softened.

“It won’t be hard to hide.” She said, tapping the chip again. “A high collar should cover it.”

Matteusz nodded, saying nothing in response. 

The Doctor frowned. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“Is something wrong?” Matteusz repeated in a low, bitter voice. “I _killed_ people and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

“That wasn’t you,” Charlie said before he even had a chance to think. After everything that had happened over the past few days, he couldn’t stand to see things turn hostile. 

The scorn in Matteusz’s voice turned hollow, almost desperate.

“You don’t really think that.” He said, his eyes so intent that Charlie almost shivered.

“What do you mean? Of course I do.” Charlie felt at a loss, like the floor had suddenly disappeared beneath him. For the most part, the words left him horrified, but to some small part of him, they rang true.

Matteusz shook his head. “You tell yourself that because it makes you feel better. But it’s still me you see your head. It’s my face you remember, not some alien’s.”

Charlie found himself thrown back to the memory of their confrontation in the hall. The last time, before he’d turned the gun on himself. He remembered the Gestalt standing before him. Remembered its pale, lifeless face. But even beneath the colourless skin and empty eyes, it was still his boyfriend’s face. And while Charlie found himself lost in that thought, fighting to keep his head above water, The Doctor seemed to have something else on her mind.

"You know this for definite, do you?" She asked Matteusz, her face a mask of caution.

The fervour in Matteusz's eyes faded, replaced something softer, almost concerned.

"What else would you think?" He said, though there was no certainty to his words.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing as she thought. She pulled the sonic from her pocket, turning it over in her hand, like a child playing with a toy.

"Permission to test a theory?" She asked. Without even waiting for a reply, she threw the sonic across the room with as much force as she could. Charlie flinched on instinct, even though a part of him knew it wasn't aimed at him. But the shock sent him backwards, staring at the screwdriver as it flew towards where Matteusz was sitting. He tensed, waiting for some kind of impact. But it never came. Instead, the sonic stopped in mid-air, hovering inches away from Matteusz's now outstretched hand.

For a moment, Charlie didn't understand what he was seeing. He looked to the others, expecting to see looks of surprise or alarm on their faces. Instead, their looks were ones of resignation. As if they both had known, somehow, what was coming.

"What just happened?" Charlie asked, searching for some kind of explanation.

"Think about it," The Doctor said, staying fixed to her spot. "If the Gestalt's dormant in his mind, so is all the power that came with it."

Charlie turned to Matteusz, lost for words. The look on his boyfriend's face was becoming all too familiar. The same as the look he gave when he felt his scar for the first time. Or whenever he was reminded of all the horrors he had endured. His face fixed in a look of forced stoicism. His eyes consumed by despair.

"Alright, Matteusz," The Doctor said, like she was speaking to a child. "You can let it go now."

At first, nothing happened, and Charlie feared for one dreadful moment that they had reawoken the Gestalt. But then, the sonic dropped to the floor, and the fear subsided. Matteusz knelt to pick it up, handing it to The Doctor, who gave a short nod of thanks.

"At the moment, it seems instinctive," She said. "But, with a bit of work, we might find a way for you to control it."

Matteusz didn't look too thrilled at the prospect, but he returned her nod regardless. The sudden bitterness that had overtaken him seemed to have vanished, replaced by that awful, hollow look that made Charlie want to weep.

"Is that it?" He found himself asking. "Or do you want to keep him here all day?" He hadn't meant to sound so curt, but even he was growing tired of the endless questions. There was so much more that needed to be resolved. So many demons to put to rest.

The Doctor gave them both a long, weary look. 

"Alright then," She said. "You two go. But if anything happens, you come straight back. Understand? No more bottling things up."

Charlie waited to see if Matteusz would respond. It was him the words were truly meant for. His promise to make. But he said nothing. Just turned away and headed back into the corridor.

* * *

They found their way back to the same room Matteusz had woken up in. Only, this time, it was Charlie who sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Matteusz stared into the empty distance. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what he might be thinking, what kind of memories came to strike him when he least expected it, but the look on his face told Charlie everything he needed to know. Sometimes, that stony, cold sternness came back to Matteusz’s eyes, freezing his delicate frame. In fact, he looked more fragile now than Charlie had ever seen him. He was alarmingly thin, with dark shadows settling under his eyes. And he shook, trembling like he’d been overcome by a cold chill. It was a sight that might have brought tears to Charlie’s eyes if something hadn’t been keeping them from him. A nagging doubt that had festered in the back of his mind for days. All from that awful dream.

“Matteusz?” He said, in a quiet, cautious voice.

He regretted it almost immediately. Seeing Matteusz turn to him, eyes lost in hollow misery, made Charlie’s words die on his lips.

“No,” He stammered, heat rising in his cheeks. “Never mind, it doesn’t-”

“It’s ok,” Matteusz said, his words strangely comforting. “Just say it.”

Charlie searched for the right words, anything to make his question sound less damning. “Do you remember the times we talked? In those dreams?”

Matteusz shook his head, waiting to hear more. Charlie had expected as much. He’d heard Matteusz list all he remembered back in the console room. All things the Gestalt had seen. 

“While I was there,” He went on, still unsure if he was approaching this the right way. “I saw things. Memories, I think. Your memories.”

“Oh.” Was all Matteusz said. There was surprise in his tone, and something else. A hint of fear, maybe. Or something closer to dread.

“I need to know...” Charlie said, but every word felt rushed, unprepared. What he was asking felt so awful that no amount of build-up could soften the blow. In the end, he decided to just get it over with. If his suspicion was right, Matteusz would know what he meant. 

“You just stood there, Matteusz. Just let it take you. You didn’t even try to fight it. I need to know, was that…” He faltered, taking a moment to calm himself. “Was it real?”

Matteusz never gave a response, but the look on his face was all the confirmation Charlie needed. His forced repose seemed to melt away, replaced by a look of pure, unbroken shame. He turned away, forcing his eyes back to the wall. But Charlie couldn’t back down.

“Why?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

For a moment, there was no response. Just a long, leaden silence that seemed to freeze the room in time. Matteusz took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He didn’t turn away from the wall, but his answer was still clear.

“You’d been in your room for two weeks. April was gone, Tanya and Ram hated me, and Quill didn’t even notice I was there,” Every word seemed more pained than the last, yet he went on. “I didn’t even have a home that wanted me. But I thought it was what I deserved. Like I hadn’t lost enough to be worth anything else.”

“I never stopped wanting you,” Charlie said, in a feeble attempt at reassurance.

But Matteusz only shook his head. “You wanted me to make you feel better. You wanted me to forgive you, so I did.”

“But still, why?” Charlie asked, still not seeing where this was going.

There was another pause, this one shorter than before.

“When I saw the rift open,” Matteusz said, eventually. “I wanted to run. To tell Quill or the others. But then I remembered they didn’t care anymore. So I thought about April instead. About how you all stood by her when the Shadow-Kin had her heart. It was only for a moment, but...I wanted that. I wanted to be noticed.”

Charlie felt as if his heart had frozen in his chest. His eyes went wide, his breath caught in his throat.

“I know it was stupid,” Matteusz said before Charlie could interject. “It was thoughtless and pathetic and I hated myself for it ever since. But I thought if something bad happened to me, that you’d come to save me. And maybe we could try and be friends again.” 

“But…” Charlie could barely find the words to speak. “It could have killed you. You didn’t know.”

Now, Matteusz did turn back, looking at Charlie with pleading eyes.

“If I died, then I wouldn’t care anymore.” He said, with something bordering on bitterness.

At first, Charlie didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know who he ought to lay blame on. On Matteusz for doing something so reckless? Or on himself for never even noticing? For a long time, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t the first time they’d heard painful confessions, and Charlie was sure it wouldn’t be the last, either. But he was tired of letting these things break them. 

“I won’t mention it if you don’t.” He said, standing from the bed.

Matteusz blinked, seemingly lost for words. 

Charlie went on. “I want to put this behind us. I want to start again, properly this time.”

He reached out a hand, went to rest it on Matteusz’s shoulder, but Matteusz recoiled at the sight.

Charlie sighed. “I don’t care if you hear my thoughts, or whatever it is. No more secrets.”

Matteusz made to back away. “How did you...”

“I’m not an idiot,” Charlie said, smiling despite himself. “The Doctor said you still had the Gestalt’s power. That means all of it, right?” He took Matteusz’s hand and held it tight. “I won’t hold anything back from you anymore.”

Matteusz pulled his hand away, as tears came to his eyes. “I don’t...want to know what you think of me.” He said in a feeble whisper.

Charlie had to force back his own tears, fighting to keep himself together.

“How do you think I see you?” He asked.

Matteusz shook his head. “Don’t make me say it. Please.”

“If I see you as a monster, then what does that make me?” Charlie said, finding his words fueled by fire. “I wiped out the Shadow-Kin. I’ve done awful things, too. And if I’d known how it felt to be afraid of the person I loved, I’d never have been angry at you for it.”

“You’re afraid of me?” Matteusz asked.

It pained Charlie to admit it, but he nodded all the same. “Maybe a little,” He said. “But I’m admitting it. I know we’re not perfect, but I want us to be happy again. Like we used to be.” He took Matteusz’s hand again, this time meeting no resistance. 

“I love you.” He said. “More than anything. And whatever it takes to keep us together, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Now, the tears came. They fell down Matteusz’s cheeks, glistening like tiny, falling stars. Even now, as tired and weak as he looked, he was still beautiful. No amount of scars would ever change that.

“I love you too,” Matteusz said, and for the first time in weeks, he smiled. A small smile, delicate and fleeting, but it made his face shine like the glow of a warm fire. This was all Charlie had wanted. It wasn’t perfect, and maybe it never would be. There were still conversations to be had. Nightmares to overcome. Tears to cry. But their worlds were finally beginning to realign. The cracks were healing, the rifts closing up.

They leaned closer, and their lips met. A soft kiss, tender and brief. A kiss to bring the world to rights. To start things again, like it was the first time. There was still work to be done. They might well have to come to know each other all over again. But Charlie was willing to wait. For Matteusz, he would do anything. Just to see that smile again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this fic starts to wind down, I'm interested to know if you guys want me to continue the series. I have a few ideas for one-shots (mainly stuff from different POVs), but there isn't really another multi-chapter fic I have in mind.  
> Part of me wants to take a brief break from writing Class fics to work on some more original stuff (technically fanfic but with entirely original characters) but that really depends if that's something people would be interested in. If not, there are a few other fandoms I'm thinking of dipping my toes into.
> 
> TL;DR: I have no idea what to write after this and need ideas thanks. :-)


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just forewarning y'all, I haven't proofread this chapter as well as I normally do. The past few weeks have been an emotional trip for me and I'm just vibing with it.
> 
> BUT, in other news, the fic is done! 10 months I've been working on this series and it's over just like that. I'm obviously pretty bummed, but it's also refreshing to be able to start new projects. Thank you to everyone for the reads, kudos and comments. It really keeps me going. :D

> _ “How long is forever?”  _
> 
> _ “Sometimes, just one second.” _

\- Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

* * *

_ Two months later _

"So you're definitely still coming?"

Charlie left the classroom the same way he'd spent most of the day - listening to April. She seemed more talkative than usual, like she felt a need to fill every silence. But Charlie didn't blame her. Tonight would be the first time the group had all been together since the Shadow-Kin invasion. Almost three months in total spent apart, with the world crumbling around them. It meant everything to her, seeing normality return.

"Yes," Charlie said with a smile as they headed towards the main hall. "We both are."

"Have you heard anything from Tanya?" April asked, a slight hesitation in her words.

Charlie shook his head. "She usually comes though, right? It's Ram you should be worrying about."

That at least made April laugh. "He'll be there if I am."

There was a short lapse into silence, the conversation seemingly dying away. Charlie found himself thinking. Thinking about the building surrounding him. The end of their first week back in Coal Hill was drawing to a close, and word of what had happened here spread fast. It seemed to be all anyone could talk about, the unknown attacker and the people who'd been killed. 10 in total, with three injured. It was as if everyone had been seized by the same obsession, a sudden desire to know the truth that dwindled day by day. Until, eventually, the victims would be nothing more than names. More stains on the reputation of Coal Hill Academy.

Of course, that was what everyone else thought. An image that had been carefully curated by The Doctor and her friends, all to make sure the real story was never uncovered. To start, they had made sure no connection would be made between the attack on Coal Hill and the brief surge of murders that had swept the city. How she'd done it was unclear, but it didn't seem to matter as long as no one asked any uncomfortable questions. Then there was the matter of changing the story, altering the figures to add another victim to the toll. Not dead, of course, merely injured. It had to be done, or people might start to wonder about the fresh scar on their classmate's face. Or why he had been absent for those first two weeks in the temporary building. These were questions all of them could do without. But, lucky for them, most people never questioned what they were told.

"Charlie?"

April's voice brought him back to the present. He blinked, suddenly aware that he'd stopped walking. 

"Sorry, what were you saying?" He asked, as April looked down at him with concern.

She shrugged in response. "It doesn't matter. Just something about homework. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," He said, trying to smile. "Just lost in thought."

Even now, the memory of all that had happened was still fresh, and sometimes he found himself overwhelmed, flooded by a strange sense of panic. Like everything was going to come crumbling down. He didn't know why he felt like that now. At least, not until he looked out ahead.

They were standing in the main hall, where students were filing out after another long day. But Charlie's eyes were drawn to the board. The board filled with the names they had lost since Coal Hill began. It seemed they were always adding names to that board - deaths and disappearances at Coal Hill were all too common an occurrence. But it wasn't the board that bothered him so much. It was the person who stood before it, staring up at the names, holding back tears.

It wasn't a surprising sight. Every day since they'd come back, Charlie had found Matteusz here. It was his way of paying tribute, it seemed. Making sure the names didn't fade into obscurity as they would for everyone else. 

He turned when he saw them, the emptiness in his eyes vanishing as if it had never been there at all. He gave April a smile as he greeted her.

"Are we going now?" He asked, once the pleasantries were exchanged.

April nodded. "We should be meeting the others there."

Charlie didn't quite know how to feel. He couldn't help but notice the people around, staring at them when they thought no one was looking. That had been the hardest thing to adjust to, the staring, though it seemed almost inevitable, given the scar that ran across his boyfriend's face. It clearly bothered Matteusz too, though he never mentioned it. In fact, he rarely brought the incident up at all, preferring to keep to his private moments of grief. Even that seemed normal to Charlie. He understood it, of course. It wasn't exactly something either of them wanted to dwell on. Especially after the first week, and all those nights Charlie would be woken by Matteusz's screams. Coming back to Coal Hill had been a turning point, a moment in which both of them - and seemingly the rest of the group - agreed to avoid the topic until enough time had passed to numb the pain. Though none of them was sure when, if at all, that would ever come.

As they left, they talked casually about the events of the day. Lessons, assignments, and other mindless things to pass the time as they left the building behind them. For the most part, it was a two-way conversation. Charlie and Matteusz had very little to ask one another. Any time they weren’t in separate classes, they were together, compensating for all the time they had lost. Trying to be a normal couple. And mostly, it felt right. Right in a way Charlie had never felt before, like this was how they were always meant to be. Normal.

From the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Matteusz adjusting his leather choker, tugging on it with obvious discomfort. He wore the thing almost constantly, covering the blocker in the back of his neck. But he hated it. He’d confessed as much to Charlie only yesterday, how restricting it felt. Like hands closing around his throat. That and, even Charlie had to admit, it didn't suit him. It stuck out against his otherwise casual dress sense, like it didn't belong. But they both knew it was necessary, another adjustment that had to be made to keep their fragile normality.

Matteusz must have noticed Charlie’s glance, as he gave a small smile in response. A sad kind of smile. An acceptance of his fate. Charlie reached out, taking Matteusz’s hand in his.

“Are you alright?” He asked, the question seeming almost routine by now.

“I’ve been worse,” Matteusz said, his smile brightening.

It was the closest to the truth Charlie knew he would get, but he didn’t mind. This was how things were now. Not ok, not really, but close. It was slow progress, but it was progress nonetheless. And, for the first time in his life, Charlie was content to wait.

* * *

The sky that night was cloudless, alight with the glimmer of stars. So bright, they seemed almost like drops of silver, dotted on black canvas. Even the moon seemed brighter than usual, with its thin, curved smile beaming down on them. Compared to the stars on his home planet, it was fairly mundane. Yet, to him, it had a simple beauty that no Rhodian skyline could ever match. It reminded him of where he was, in the midst of a vast universe with countless civilisations beyond even his imagination. And Charlie couldn't help but smile.

His thoughts turned to their meeting in the cafe that afternoon. As usual, April’s worries had proved mostly unfounded. Tanya and Ram had been waiting for them, sitting at a secluded table away from prying eyes. They’d all been civil to one another, making small talk about classes and home life, skirting around any unpleasant topics. Those things, Charlie knew, would come later. When everyone was ready for them.

He turned back to face the open door, watching the light that shone in from the hallway outside. He saw the shadows shift and turn as people moved from one place to another. From another room, he heard the sound of running water. The shower, probably, or the bathroom sink. He liked that sound. It was normal, welcome. The sound of a normal evening.

He waited for the sound to stop, for those familiar footsteps to make their way back to the room. Back to him. But they didn't come. A whole five minutes must have gone by with Charlie standing there, waiting. After that, his concern finally overcame him. He moved with slow, cautious steps, almost as if he was trying not to be heard. His breathing seemed shallow, his heart drumming and blood rushing. By the time he reached the open bathroom door, he was almost too afraid to look inside. But he didn't know why. Nothing was coming for him. Nothing was waiting.

He found Matteusz standing by the sink. His hair was dripping wet and his lower half was wrapped in a towel. The room was still clouded with steam, even with the open door acting as ventilation. The water in the tap was running, so much so that the sink was almost flooding. But Matteusz didn't seem to notice. His eyes were closed, one hand braced on the steamed cabinet mirror, the other clutching the sink for support. It was then Charlie saw that he was shaking. Trembling as if he was in pain. His breathing seemed strained, coming fast and shallow through gritted teeth. There were tears in his eyes, falling down his cheeks and mixing with the water that still clung to his skin. 

Charlie moved without even thinking, rushing to Matteusz's side and grabbing his shoulder to support him.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He asked, panic rising in his voice.

Matteusz seemed to be trying to respond, but his words were lost to choked cries, weak and hollow. It was then that Charlie knew what he was seeing. It was another relapse, one like the dozens they'd seen over the past weeks. But never like this. They usually came at night, slipping into dreams and nightmares alike. Always debilitating. Always all-consuming. And there was nothing Charlie could do but stay by Matteusz's side until it passed. 

He didn't know how long they were there. Ten minutes. Maybe twenty. But Charlie would’ve waited all night if he’d needed to. Anything to just be there. When the worst of it was over, Charlie threw his arms around Matteusz, holding him so tight it almost hurt. But Matteusz didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you.” He said, his voice barely a whisper.

Charlie didn’t say anything, just kept holding him as if their lives depended on it. But after a moment, Matteusz pulled away, leaving Charlie to realise how damp his clothes now were. He took the hint and went back to the bedroom, trying to calm his now frantic nerves.

He wasn’t alone for too long. But when Matteusz came back in, still covering himself with the towel, Charlie felt the need to turn away. As if, for some reason, they were seeing each other for the first time. But he didn’t need to look to know what was happening. The sounds were familiar by now, the unscrewing of a bottle cap, the shaking of the contents inside. It had become a regular enough occurrence for Charlie to recognise the bottle of pills when he heard it.

Therapy had surprisingly been Tanya’s idea. The three of them had shared a somewhat awkward study meeting on Matteusz’s first week back when it was first suggested.

“Sure,” Tanya had said. “It won’t be a cure or anything, but it has to do something.”

And that was how they’d found themselves in weeks of medical hell, passed from therapists to GPs and psychiatrists, each time telling them the same story. A version of the truth with all references to anything alien ignored or replaced with something else. Charlie had never seen any of the appointments himself, only heard about them afterwards. But from the way Matteusz would come home, weary and withdrawn, he could tell they were tough. Reliving all those experiences yet never being able to fully confide in anyone had taken its toll.

And that was how his boyfriend had been diagnosed as a schizophrenic.

Like Tanya had thought, it wasn’t really a cure. It was the closest thing to the truth any doctor could think of without knowing all the things Charlie and the others knew. And it was just another permanent reminder of everything they’d been through. A mark on Matteusz’s record that would follow him for the rest of his life. But the others had seemed to think it might do some good. Or, at least, April had.

“At least it’s something, right?” She’d said, with that warm, sisterly smile of hers. “He doesn’t have to just pretend everything’s normal.”

Charlie supposed he saw some truth in that, though it clearly didn’t offer Matteusz any comfort. It was impossible to miss how the outside world seemed to treat him differently, especially in the wake of his parents’ deaths. But no one looked at him with suspicion. Maybe wariness from some - mostly students who had never cared that much for him anyway - but from most, all Charlie noticed was pity. In private, they had agreed not to mention it, like so many other things, but it was something they had both come to accept. As long as the medication helped, they saw it as another necessary evil.

Sometimes, it seemed like everything in their lives was just that now. Evil. Warped. Tainted. A dark cloud that hung over them, drowning the world in shadow.

* * *

Neither of them could sleep. Instead, they lay in bed, staring out into the distance. He was tired, more tired than he’d even been in his life, but his eyes refused to close. 

“Should I go?”

The words caught Charlie off guard. He turned over to find Matteusz sitting up, leaning against his pillows.

“Why?” Was all Charlie could say. He wondered if he’d missed something. An unspoken acknowledgement that something was wrong.

Even in the relative darkness, Charlie could sense the flush in Matteusz’s cheeks. But he gave no kind of response.

“Seriously, why?” Charlie pressed on, sitting up himself. “Why would I want you to do that?”

Matteusz couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “It’s just...no. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Charlie went to put a hand on his shoulder, but Matteusz pulled away. A sudden, instinctive motion that even he seemed not to have expected.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie found himself asking. It seemed like such a stupid question. He knew full well what was wrong, or at least the basis of it. 

“I was thinking,” Matteusz said in a low voice. He seemed to shiver then, like a cold chill had run through him.

“About?” Charlie didn’t know if it was right to keep prying. But he had promised he would be there. Be better. He couldn’t do that if he didn’t even ask.

“About prom.” There was hesitation in Matteusz’s words, like he was almost embarrassed to speak them. “About when you asked me to go with you. I was wondering if you’d still have asked me if…” His words faltered, trailing off into nothing.

“If what?” Charlie asked, his words little more than prompts.

Matteusz took a long, deep breath. “If I was like this.”

A part of him had known those words were coming, and yet they still struck him hard.

“Of course I would,” He said, shifting closer.

Matteusz shook his head. “But you can’t just say that. You don’t know how different things might have been.”

Charlie thought for a moment before responding. He had to make sure his response was just right. Not too harsh, not too condescending.

“You can ask yourself ‘what if’ all you want. It doesn’t change anything,” He went to take Matteusz’s hand, this time meeting no resistance. “Would you have gone with me if you knew who I really was?”

Matteusz didn’t respond, only clutching Charlie’s hand tighter.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” He went on. There always was. Every small anxiety was just a gateway to something bigger. Another fear that lurked beneath the surface.

“I don’t know,” Matteusz said after a long pause. “It’s everything. It’s the way people look at me. It’s trying to pretend things are normal. It’s us.”

Charlie tilted his head. “Why us?”

For the first time that night, Matteusz looked him dead in the eye. “All those things we’ve done. How can we stand to be with each other?”

Charlie knew he didn’t mean any of this. They were desperate words. The mind’s need to give voice to the mass of conflicting emotions it was feeling. He moved closer, resting a head-on Matteusz’s shoulder. He didn’t know if comfort like this would be enough, but it felt like all he could do.

“I hate this,” Matteusz said, his voice choked by tears. “I hate it all. I just want it to stop.”

Charlie wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. “It will,” He said. “The Doctor told us it’ll pass eventually.”

“But when?”

Charlie didn’t answer. In truth, he didn’t know. There had been progress in the weeks since it had all ended. Most of the time, things were like they had been in the cafe. Civil. Comfortable. A passable recreation of normality. But there were still nights like these. Nights where everything seemed overwhelming. Like there was no escape.

“It’ll get better,” Charlie said, as much to himself as to Matteusz. “You still believe that, don’t you? You’ve always believed it, ever since I first met you. Why stop now?”

There was another lapse of silence. A tense, heavy silence that seemed to freeze them in place.

“I hope so.” Was the eventual reply.

It seemed like the best either of them could offer. No matter how much they believed that, it didn’t make the nights any less painful. But it was something. A glimmer of hope. A chance. And even if neither of them knew how long it would take, it would always be there.

“So do I,” Charlie said, and kissed Matteusz on the cheek.

In the end, neither of them slept. They stayed there, in each other’s arms, waiting for the dawn to come. Another day they would make it through. Just like all the days that had passed before them, and all the days still to come. It might not be easy. It might not be normal. But they would spend those days together. And as long as they did, those dawns would be that little bit brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, where do we go now? Well, as mentioned last update, I'm working on a (kind of) original work. It's a pretty BIG project, but I'll be posting it on my Tumblr (same name as my AO3, feel free to follow me if you don't already) when it's up and running. I'll almost certainly be coming back to the Class fandom, so fear not. I just need a little time to explore new things.  
> Thanks again, and see you all in the next fic.


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